


Hiding Places

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Peter has powers but is not Spiderman, Starker, Tony is Ironman, the usual M/M action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-25 18:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 37,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Tony is hiding from the world after making a mistake that gets an innocent person killed. Peter just so happens to be hiding in the same place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt and was live written in a discord server. WIP as I get the formatting to work for AO3 but it's written out - although there may be some changes to the original as I go along.  
(the prompt was that Tony finds something of Peter's in a library book and looks to return it to him)

_When are you coming home?”_

“I’m not,” Tony replied, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair and looking at Steve Rogers’ image in the video call. “I’m going to stay here, forever.”

_“What about your company?”_

“Pepper’s running it. And she’ll do fine. Better than I can.”

He couldn’t help the self-pity in his voice, and he scowled because of it.

Rogers heard it, too.

_“And the Avengers?”_

“You have War Machine if you need any heavy hitting. The others will do fine without me.”

_“Tony…”_

“Drop it, Steve. Alright? I’m off the grid, and I’m staying right here.”

He ended the call before Steve could say anything else, or try to talk to him, again, and assure him that he’d made the right call. He knew better. It had been his decision. _His_ missile. The explosion he created had killed the bad guys, yes, and had killed a _civilian_, too.

He was tired of making mistakes, and had finally decided that he wasn't going to make any more. Which had led him to a tiny cabin in a corner of the state that was completely the opposite of the corner that held New York city. There was a tiny town a few miles away from the cabin – an easy drive in the plain, blue, pickup that he’d purchased to fit in better than the flashy cars he was used to driving. The cabin was well equipped, but it was devoid of technology, and FRIDAY, and people.

He missed FRIDAY, but he didn’t miss any of the rest of it.

><><><><><> 

He’d explored the town the day he arrived.

Not necessarily because he _wanted_ to, but he needed to stock up on food in the cabin, and since he’d purposely made sure that there wasn't any real tech (no TV, even – although he had his cell phone, because he _had_ to have it) he was pleased that he’d found the little library.

He’d brought a small collection of reading material, but in the week that he’d been at the cabin, he’d already finished everything that he’d brought with him and needed new reading material.

Aside from the library – which was also connected to the post office – there was a grocery store, a mechanic shop, a café, a small school and several blocks of houses that supported those businesses.

Tony tucked his phone into his pocket and left the cabin, got behind the wheel and headed for his pickup. He’d treat himself to a meal that he didn’t have to make, and find some books to keep him company for the next few evenings. The first thing that the people in town had told him was that there was supposedly a snow storm on the way, and that since it was the first of the season, it was almost certainly going to be a big one, with a lot of snow. He wasn't worried; the cabin was sturdy, the woodpile was immense and he had plenty of food.

As far as he was concerned, the more snow the better. 

><><><><>< 

“Coffee?”

Tony looked up from the book that he’d just opened and saw the waitress standing next to the table, already holding a cup and a fresh pot of coffee.

He nodded.

“Please.”

She poured, and tilted her head, looking at the books that were stacked beside him – making him think that he should have dropped them in the truck before hitting the café.

“You a train man?” she asked, curiously.

“What?”

“The book,” she said, gesturing with her hand at the one on the top of the stack. “_Advanced engineering.”_

He hid his amusement, and shook his head.

“No. It has nothing to do with trains. More like space shuttles.”

“Oh.” She frowned, looking at the book, again, and then shrugged. “You want chili?”

“Sure.”

“Cheese?”

“Please.”

She left, and Tony shook his head, again, smiling, and took a sip of his coffee before turning back to his book.

><><><><> 

Despite being out in the middle of nowhere, the cabin was nice. Not extravagant by any means; it was a single floor and had only two bedrooms. His apartment back in the city was twice as big, easily, but the furnishing was comfortable, the fireplace was clean, and the kitchen was well appointed with everything that he needed to take care of himself.

It was starting to get chilly at night, so despite the central heating the place was equipped with, Tony started a fire in the fireplace when he returned from town, and he went into his bedroom, changed into lounge pants and a long-sleeved thermal t-shirt and settled on the big leather sofa, reaching for a blanket and the engineering book – even though he knew there wasn't going to be anything in it that he didn’t already know.

It was still going to be better than reading the romance pocketbook that the librarian had pointed out for him when he mentioned that he was looking for some light reading.

“What secrets do you have to tell me?” Tony murmured to the book as he opened it, not at all self-conscious about talking to inanimate objects. He did it all the _time_, really.

He didn’t expect a response, though, and was a bit startled when a couple of pieces of folded paper fell out of the book and into his lap.

Curious, Tony set the book aside and picked up the papers, unfolding them to see what they were.

“What’s this?”

He saw some notes; neatly written formulas, carefully designed diagrams of incredibly complex specifics that made Tony smile and feel just a pang of homesickness, which he pushed aside, moving to the next page, which had what were obviously study notes from the book. Whoever the would-be engineer was, he knew his stuff, because the paper had some side notes written, as well – personal introspections that were far more advanced than the book that he was looking at was capable of providing.

Tony glanced through the papers, looking for a name to go with the notes, and didn’t see anything.

Luckily, the library system was antiquated, and when he went back to the book itself, there was a small pouch glued to the inside of the front cover. His name was there (the pseudonym that he was using _Anthony Edwards_) and right underneath his name was another, dated only a few weeks earlier.

“Peter Parker…” he frowned, wondering if this Peter Parker was an engineer, or an engineering student (although how he was doing that out in bumfuck Egypt was beyond Tony) and he wondered if the old guy needed his notes.

Tony looked at them, again, flipping through the two pages, and shrugged, putting them aside and looking at the fireplace.

He’d see if the librarian knew who this Peter guy was, and maybe return the papers to him. It wasn't like he had anything pressing to do, after all.


	2. 2

“Peter?” The librarian frowned. “Of course I know who he is. It's a very small town, after all. He's a nice boy, but he’s a bit of an odd duck.”

Tony forced himself not to roll his eyes. That was rich, coming from someone in this town that seemed _filled_ with odd ducks.

“Do you know where I can find him?” he asked, politely. “I found some things of his and was hoping to return them.”

Not to mention, it might actually be a chance to talk shop with someone who didn’t think he was a _train_ _guy_ just because he was reading about engineering.

“He rents a room in the little blue house on the west end of the road,” she replied. “But he won’t be there, now. He works at the grocery store – mostly in the receiving area. He’ll probably be there, right now. Around back."

“Thank you.”

“He probably won’t talk to you,” she warned. “He shies away from people. Doesn’t like to make small talk. Just works and studies.”

She shook her head, as if it was the oddest thing in the world.

“I’ll take my chances,” Tony told her – still being polite.

He was Tony Stark, after all – and _Ironman_. If the kid knew who he was, he’d want to talk to him. That much was certain. It wasn't saying much that Tony didn’t need to ask where the store was – and he was pretty sure that he’d seen the big blue house on the west end of the road, too.

He left the library and debated whether to drive to the store, or walk. It wasn't that big of a town, after all. He decided to drive, only because he didn’t want to have to risk another chat with the librarian when he came back to fetch the truck.

><><><><>< 

There was a box truck in the back of the grocery store, apparently making a delivery.

Tony parked his truck in the front of the store and walked around to the back of the little building, the papers that he’d found tucked in the pocket of the jacket that he was wearing against the chill of the fall morning. He saw two people in the rear of the building; a gray-haired man who was almost certainly the delivery driver, and a younger male with a baby face who couldn’t have been out of his teens, if Tony was to judge.

The two were talking while they unloaded the truck, and Tony leaned against the wall of the building watching as the driver brought pallets out of the truck with a small forklift, while the other unloaded boxes from each pallet, putting them on a dolly and taking them into the back door of the grocery store five at a time.

Tony heard the driver call the young man Peter, so he decided that this had to be the Peter that he was looking for, but he didn’t want to interrupt the flow of what he was doing, so he waited until they were done unloading and the driver parked the forklift behind the building to charge and then drove off with a cheerful goodbye.

Then he moved to intercept the younger man as he took the last load into the building.

“Excuse me,” he said, politely, trying not to startle him as he walked up to him. “Are you Peter Parker…?”

The man – _boy_, really, Tony decided – stopped and turned at the question, and his eyes grew wide, telling Tony that someone in the little town had finally recognized him.

“_Tony Stark_…”

He hesitated; while he’d really wanted to stay anonymous while he was there – which was why he was using a different name – he hadn’t shaved the tell-tale goatee, counting on the fact that no one would expect to find someone as famous and rich as himself hiding out in such a small backwater places. Yes, he’d assumed that someone interested in engineering would know his face if he saw him, but he’d expected shock, and excitement.

Peter wasn't showing, either. All Tony could see was terror.

“Yeah…” he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Keep it _down_, though, will you?”

“What…?” the boy was looking like he was trying to find an escape route – which was surprising to Tony, since he knew he wasn't a particularly imposing figure – and he was _Ironman_, for Christ’s sake. The kid had to know that he wasn't a serial killer or something. “What are _you_ doing here…?”

“Looking for you,” he said, giving him as winning a smile as he could. “If _you’re_ Peter Parker, that is…?”

“Oh.” Tony was shocked that the boy paled, suddenly. He was still afraid. “I mean. Yeah. I am. _Peter_, I mean.”

“Relax, Peter,” he said, wondering what was going on with the guy. “I just have something that belongs to you, and thought I’d return it.”

“You do?”

Tony stepped closer, and his smile, this time, was warmer – and he couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed along the boy’s body, coming to rest on his face. He was adorable and his eyes were beautiful. If only they could lose the fear.

He pulled the papers out of his pocket and handed them to the boy.

“I found these in a book I borrowed from the library. I thought you might need them.”

Peter reached out and took them, curiously, and then he smiled – a transformation that really _did_ make all the difference.

“My notes. I was wondering what I’d done with them.”

“They were in an engineering book.”

“Oh. Wow. Thanks, Mr. Stark. I was… well, it’s too late, now, because I already took the test, but they’ll come in handy for my final.”

“They teach engineering at the high school here?” Tony asked, curiously.

“No. I mean, _maybe_. I doubt it, though. I don’t go to school here – I take online courses in the evening and days that I don’t work.”

“How _old_ are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Just graduated?”

“No. I graduated at sixteen and moved out here when I did.”

“From where?”

The boy hesitated, again, once more cautious.

“Queens.”

If he’d been confused before, he was _completely_ puzzled, now.

“You graduated and _then_ moved out to Podunk?”

Peter nodded, looking uncomfortable.

“Um. Yeah. It’s uh… it’s _cheaper_ here.”

“You have family here?”

“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to get back to work, Mr. Stark. Thanks for bringing me these papers. I appreciate it. _Really_.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He watched the boy start to turn, to head into the main part of the store. “Hey, Peter?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell anyone I’m here, will you? I’m sort of incognito, right now.”

The boy looked confused by that, but he nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Peter disappeared into the store, and Tony let himself out the back, closing the door behind him. He was going to have to do a little more research than he actually intended, because Peter Parker was a mystery.

And Tony Stark loved a mystery.


	3. 3

Without FRIDAY available for immediate research capabilities, Tony was forced to utilize the regular search engines. Yes; he could tap into the web using his phone – which is what he _did_ – but it was slow compared to the instant access that he was used to, and as he sat in front of the fireplace, he sighed, looking at the relatively little screen and watching as the little information that he was able to find on Peter Parker went flashing by.

Because of who he was, he did have more information and sources available to him, and even though the information came in slowly, and sparsely, it did come in. But it was even more confusing, really, the more he learned.

“Peter Benjamin Parker. Parents? Died when he was five. Poor guy. Went to live in Queens with his aunt and uncle… who died, too, when he was sixteen. You are an _unlucky_ bastard, Peter Parker. I know how that feels, don’t I?”

He read about the mugger who killed them, and that the man escaped the police, only to turn up dead from an apparent fall off a building a few weeks later. Peter had been close to graduation when his guardians had died, and he’d done just that; graduating with incredible grades and taking the life insurance policy and moving out of Queens and to the very edge of the state – where Tony had discovered him. He was now (according to Tony’s research) in his second year of online studies through Columbia university and was doing extremely well for himself, despite his tender age.

Tony didn’t have anything else on him; he didn’t have a social media presence, not twitter, facebook, or anything else. No other family, and – if Tony was to judge – he was alright with that, because he could afford to live anywhere, really, if he was careful with his funds, and he was living in the middle of nowhere.

“Why are you _out_ _here_, Peter?” Tony wondered, aloud. “This isn’t the place for someone as bright as you…”

He’d have to ‘accidentally’ run into him, maybe get a conversation out of him to find out.

><><><><>< 

The next morning was cold and gray and Tony was surprised to find that he had to scrape the windows of the truck when he went outside to drive into town. He scowled, his breath coming in frosty puffs as he used a credit card to do the honors since he didn’t have a window scraper.

“It’s everywhere you need it to be,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He was going to need some gloves and a warmer jacket, at this rate. He wasn't a weatherman, but he had a feeling the snow everyone had been mentioning to him might actually happen. Ridiculous, since it was only October, but what did he know?

“It’s supposed to snow,” he was told by the waitress who poured his coffee half an hour later. “You’re going to want to put some bales of hay in the back of your truck.”

“To feed the cows?” he asked, trying to stop from being sarcastic, since she didn’t deserve that, but failing just a little.

Luckily, she wasn't offended. He was from the city, she could tell, and everyone knew city slickers needed all the guidance they could be given.

“To weigh down the back of the truck and keep you on the road when it gets slick. We get some serious snowfall out here – even this early – so you’re going to want to be careful on the roads.”

“Thank you.”

He frowned, though, and thought about that as he waited for his breakfast. He should probably add more things to his pantry at the cabin, then, just in case he didn’t want to drive on icy roads. He _could_ make his own breakfast, after all, there just wasn't any reason to do so since he was already in town and it was easier to eat out.

He’d want more books, too, most likely. Which reminded him that he wanted to talk to Peter, again, and while he ate, he brooded over how to make that happen when the kid was clearly so wary around him.

><><>><><> 

“Think that will hold you over?” the librarian asked, smiling at the stack of books Tony brought to the counter. “We’re supposed to be getting some snow, after all. You might be stuck in that cabin of yours for a few days before the roads get cleared.”

He smiled, too; that was fine with him, really. He’d come to the middle of nowhere to be a hermit – and a snowed in hermit didn’t have any visitors to have to entertain, now did they?

“I have a deck of cards,” he assured her. “I can always play solitaire.”

“Oh, I love solitaire…” she went on to tell him a joke as she checked out his books for him, about a man who was assigned to the desert in the French Foreign Legion and had been issued a deck of cards along with his camel and his gun. Tony might have groaned with impatience, but she was a kindly woman and he didn’t want to be rude, so he waited for the punchline – and actually chuckled when she told him the man had been told that if he became turned around and lost in the desert that he should just stop, sit down and start playing a game of solitaire, because eventually someone would come and tap him on the shoulder and tell him to play the red eight on the black nine. “Need anything else?” she asked, pleased that she'd made him smile.

“I think I’m good.”

“You should get some hay bales for your truck,” she added. “The grocery store has some.”

“Thank you.”

He left, books tucked under his arm, and when he dropped them into the cab of the truck, he decided that yes, he’d better get some hay for the back of it. Especially when he saw Peter Parker walking across the street and heading into the grocery store parking lot.

He walked into the store and glanced around, looking for the young man, and found him standing by the pharmacy counter (which also doubled as a photo counter and the cigarette and alcohol center, as well) talking to the elderly man behind the counter.

Both looked up when Tony approached, and while the old man smiled a greeting, Peter looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there at the moment. “

Good morning, Mr. Edwards.”

Tony smiled, feeling a little guilty for using an assumed name, but glad that he wasn’t dodging paparazzi or fan girls, just then.

“Good morning. It was suggested to me that I find some bales of hay to put in the back of my truck before the roads start getting slick. Any suggestions where I could purchase some?”

The older man nodded.

“We sell them, here. Bring your truck to the back of the store, Peter can load a few for you.”

Tony looked at the boy.

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing.”

The older man didn’t notice how uncomfortable the boy looked, and Tony was just confused. He was definitely more used to having people practically worship him, or throw themselves at him – not dodging him like he was a plague carrier.

“I’m parked in front of the library. Can I meet you in the back in a few minutes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get him 4, Peter,” the old man said. “They’re saying it’s going to start snowing, today, so we’ll want him set up, now, rather than later.”

Tony watched as Peter walked away.

“He seems like a nice guy…”

The man nodded.

“He is. Keeps to himself, though, and always looks nervous. Poor guy. _Smart_, though. Will ramble for hours about all kinds of crazy stuff that means nothing to the rest of us.”

“Where’s his family?” Tony asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“None, here. He said they all live down south, but he was ready to find someplace quieter.”

Tony nodded, sagely, paid for his hay bales and left to go get his truck.

>><><><<<>> 

Peter was waiting for him behind the store, almost in the same place where he’d unloaded the box truck the day before, and Tony pulled the truck up to park it next to him. Next to the boy were four bales of hay, stacked and waiting.

“Any place in particular we should put them?” He asked, trying to start a conversation.

“No.” He put the tailgate of the truck down, avoiding looking at Tony. “It doesn’t matter, really.”

“Can I help?”

“I’m good.”

He turned and picked up the first baled, hefting it as if it weighed next to nothing, but Tony saw the truck shift as the weight landed in the back, so he knew that wasn’t the case. Impressed, he watched as the slightly built young man repeated the performance three more times, and frowned, because Peter absolutely refused to look at him.

Which was a mystery.

“Do I make you nervous?” Tony asked, abruptly, figuring there was no sense beating around the bush. “I mean, you know who I am, right? But you act like you’re worried I’m going to attack you or something any minute…”

Peter’s cheeks went red, and those pretty brown eyes turned away, almost automatically, before he seemed to force himself to meet Tony’s eyes.

“No. I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Of course. Why would you make me nervous?”

Good question. And one that Tony really wanted the answer to.

“You act nervous around me.”

“It’s your imagination.”

Tony forced himself not to roll his eyes.

“Prove it,” he said. “Come to my place. Tonight. We’ll have dinner, or something, and you can talk to me about what you’re studying.”

Peter froze.

“You want to have dinner with me?”

Tony felt a sudden stirring in his loins at the flash of interest in Peter’s expression. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like he was asking him for a _date_ – he’d been thinking that someone as intelligent as Peter was would probably be starving for interesting techie conversation (_he_ was, after all, and he’d only been hiding in podunkville for a week, now).

“Yes.” Tony flushes, feeling suddenly shy. “I mean. Why not? Are you busy?”

The boy hesitated, but was forced to shake his head.

“There isn’t a lot to do around here,” he admitted. “I was just going to study.”

“Bring your books,” the billionaire offered. “You can study with me while I make you dinner.”

“Yeah?”

Tony nodded, and shrugged, trying to act nonchalant when he wasn’t, suddenly. He very much wanted to have Peter’s company.

“Sure. I know a thing or two about engineering, after all.”

“Yeah…” Peter hesitated, his hand resting on the tailgate of the truck, and then – to Tony’s surprise – he nodded. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. What time?”

“When do you get off? _Work_, I mean,” Tony corrected. “When are you off work?”

Peter flushed, but he smiled.

“Five.”

“Come at six.”

The blush deepened, and Tony realized the double meaning, immediately – and he blushed, too, unreasonably. Jesus, he was too old to be getting embarrassed or shy with someone as young as Peter Parker.

They both smiled, and Peter nodded.

“I’ll be there. Thanks.”

Tony nodded, too.

“Alright. I’ll see you at six.”

The boy turned, going back into the building, and Tony shook his head, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Probably the challenge presented by Peter being so standoffish with him making him possessive or something.

“I’d better find something more impressive than chili to make for dinner,” he muttered, already thinking about what he had at the cabin to feed the boy.


	4. 4

It was starting to snow when Tony opened the door to Peter’s polite knock at a quarter to six.

He looked over the young man’s shoulder, seeing a lot of snowflakes falling, but only his truck out in front of the cabin.

“How did you get here?” he asked, ushering Peter inside and closing the door against the chill.

It was already starting to get dark, and the clouds blocking out what little sun was remaining didn’t help.

“I walked,” Peter told him, looking around with interest. “It’s not that far.”

“I’ll take you home, though,” Tony promised, taking the books that Peter had in his hand and setting them on a stand near the door. “Take your coat off and stay a while, as the saying goes.”

The boy nodded, sliding out of his jacket and handing it to Tony with a nod of thanks.

“This place is pretty nice.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never seen you out here, before…”

It was a question more than a statement, and the billionaire shrugged as he hung up Peter’s jacket beside his own.

“Yeah. I’ve never been here,” he said, evasively.

“Going to be here long?”

“I’m considering it.”

Peter’s expression was uncertain, still, and he didn’t bother to hide his confusion.

“It’d be hard to be Ironman out here, though…”

Tony nodded.

“I know. What are you working on in your studies?” he asked, blatantly changing the subject and leading Peter to the sofa, gesturing for him to sit down while he went to the fireplace and poked at the logs he had blazing.

“Micropillar arrays,” Peter told him, sitting down, looking a little less uncomfortable than he had.

“Yeah?” Tony was impressed even _hearing_ the term coming from the youngster. “What are you planning on doing with that?”

“Just doing some experimenting with visible light photocuring. In case-“

“You want to make a _cloaking_ device?” Tony interrupted.

The boy smiled.

“You’re the first person I’ve said that to who didn’t suddenly look confused or immediately have their eyes glaze over in boredom.”

Tony’s echoing smile was amused, and he found himself relaxing just a little as Peter seemed to, as well.

“That’s pretty advanced,” he told the younger man. “How are you working on something like that way out here in the sticks?”

“I’m only doing it virtually,” he admitted. “And even then, it isn’t really progressing too far. When I’m ready, though, I thought I’d do my thesis on it. In a few years, of course.”

“If you figured it out, you’d have R&D companies lined up for a piece of you,” Tony told him. “You _know_ that, right?”

The boy shrugged.

“I have a lot of school to finish, first.”

Tony was never one to beat around the bush – especially with strangers.

“Why are you _out here_, then? You could be going to some first-class school on a scholarship with your brains.”

Peter flushed, but Tony didn’t know if it was from the implied compliment, or something else.

“I… well… it’s… I like it out here.”

He was a terrible liar, Tony decided, but he let it drop. He didn’t want to drive Peter away by pressing the uncomfortable questions – even though he had no idea _why_ they were uncomfortable. He was dying to know more about him, though, and that meant keeping him talking.

Light conversation, though.

He smiled, and shrugged.

“Yeah… I can tell there’s a lot to do to keep busy.”

He couldn’t help that it sounded sarcastic, but Peter smiled.

“You might be surprised, Mr. Stark. There are a lot of things to do if you look.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“What do you have?”

“Scotch, vodka, beer, even a decent wine.”

“I’m _eighteen_,” Peter reminded him with another smile.

“_Juice box_?”

That actually made the boy smile.

“No cola?”

“Maybe. Come into the kitchen. I need to check dinner, anyway.”

They walked into the kitchen, and Tony gestured for Peter to sit down. Despite the rustic aspect of the place, it had a nice kitchen, and the center island had barstools that were comfortable.

Tony poured himself a finger of scotch and opened the fridge, even though he knew he didn’t have any cola. It wasn't his drink of choice.

“I have grape juice, water, and ginger ale. Or _beer_.”

He wasn't above contributing to a minor.

“Ginger ale. Thanks.”

“So, tell me what you do for fun.”

“I work in the store.”

“For _fun_, Peter.”

“It’s fun. I see everyone in town, that way. They all need to eat, right?”

Tony turned away long enough to check the stove, where he had alfredo sauce simmering, waiting for the noodles that were boiling in the other pot.

“I get the impression that you don’t really like to socialize, though.”

Peter shrugged.

“The people here are nice. They always want to know everyone else’s business…” Tony could see that that made Peter uncomfortable. “But they’re friendly, and look out for each other.”

“Huh.”

That was true, though, and Tony knew it. He’d been in town a week and he’d already figured out that the café and the store were where the most gossip was shared, and everyone was always asking about each other’s families, and friends – even their dogs.

“Why are you _here_, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked. “It’s the last place I would have expected to see you.”

Which had been the whole point of being there.

“That’s kind of the point,” he replied, without thinking – and not realizing that he was echoing Peter’s own thoughts. Then he frowned. “Call me _Tony_, will you? You make me feel old, calling me Mr. Stark.”

“Tony…” Peter said it softly, as if getting used to the idea of being on first name basis with Ironman.

To Tony – who maybe was a little mellow because it _wasn't_ his first drink of the night – it sounded erotic, and he felt himself twitch, just a little.

“Yeah.” He downed his drink. “I’m just checking out the scenery,” he lied. “Looking for a good place to build a vacation home.”

“It snows in September and doesn’t stop until _May_,” Peter told him. “Unless you’re a hunter, or an artist, this probably isn’t the place for you.”

“We’ll see.”

><><><><<> 

“This is good.”

Tony smiled, pleased at the compliment, and watching as Peter made his way through the meal that he’d offered him. Chicken alfredo wasn't the fanciest of offerings, but it was something that Tony enjoyed – and so did _Peter_, apparently.

“Thanks. More?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The boy watched as Tony served him more. And then shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re actually _here_. In the middle of nowhere…”

Tony shrugged.

“_You_ are.”

The guarded look that had been fading in the last half hour of small talk flashed across Peter’s expression once more.

“You're looking for me?”

The billionaire frowned.

“No. _Should_ I be?”

He was acting so oddly.

“Oh.” Peter shook his head. “No. I mean, why would you be? I’m _no one_.”

“Not no one, Peter Parker…” he said, sincerely, feeling the liquor he’d been drinking working its magic on his inhibitions. “But you _are_ hiding something, aren’t you?”

“What? _No_.”

Stark’s gaze was intent as he watched Peter’s eyes; brown and pretty, close up like they were just then.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why are you here, Peter?”

“Because you invited me to dinner.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Not here, with _me_,” he clarified. “I mean; why are you in this little town instead of in the city where you belong?”

“I _like_ it here.”

“I believe you. But what made you come out here? You don’t have family here. What made you come here, of all places?” he hesitated, wondering about the way the man who had killed the boy’s aunt and uncle had been found dead. Surely Peter hadn’t had anything to do with that? He’d only been sixteen, after all. “Who are you hiding from?”

“No one,” Peter told him. “I just-“

“_Who?”_ Tony’s voice was sharper than he’d intended, and the boy flinched.

“You.”


	5. 5

Tony frowned, but Peter lurched to his feet.

“I gotta go.”

“No. Wait.”

“Thanks for the meal. I-“

“Peter. _Stop_.”

“No.” The boy was beginning to panic. An honest to shit panic attack. No one could recognize that look better than Tony, after all. “I need to get out of here.”

Tony had risen to his feet, as well, moving to stand between Peter and the door.

“Peter… relax… what’s going on? Why are you so upset? What’s wrong?”

Peter turned.

“I… _nothing_.”

It was definitely _something_.

“I don’t understand…” Tony forced himself to project calm rather than rising to meet Peter’s anxiety. “Hey… talk to me. Why are you hiding from me?”

Peter shook his head, but he didn’t try to push past Tony to go out the door.

“I’m…” he shook his head, again, and Tony rolled his eyes, deciding that whatever it was, he wasn't going to get it out of the boy without some nudging.

“Come sit down,” he said, gently, taking Peter’s arm, carefully, and guiding him to the sofa. Peter allowed him to do it, sitting down when Tony pushed him down onto the soft leather. “Take a deep breath, Peter…”

The boy did what he was told, watching as Tony poured a couple of inches of whiskey into a glass and handed it to him.

“I don’t dri-“

“Just take a sip,” Tony said. “It’ll calm your nerves.”

He was definitely looking nervous.

Peter hesitated, his eyes meeting the older man’s, and then he drank the glass down in a couple of gulps, wheezing as the liquid burned its way into his stomach.

“You’re okay,” Tony told him, settling himself into the place beside Peter. “Take another deep breath.”

Peter nodded, taking several. And then a few more, while Tony rubbed his back, soothingly, but aside from that simple contact gave him all the time that he needed to gather himself.

“I’m sorry,” the boy finally said, flushing. “I shouldn’t have freaked out on you like that.”

“Yeah. Why was that? What do you mean when you say you’re hiding from me?” He frowned, then, as a completely different thought struck him. “I’m not your _father_, am I?”

“What?”

“I mean… I _did_ know a lot of people back when I was younger and a little more reckless than I am, now. I-“

Peter actually smiled at that, incredulous – or maybe feeling the effects of the whiskey a little.

“No. You’re not my father.”

“You’re _sure_? I mean, _you’re_ smart, and _I’m_ smart. And _you’re_ cute, and _I’m_ cute…”

The boy shook his head.

“Yeah. No. I mean, I’m _sure_. I look a lot like my dad did, so that’s probably not a concern.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Tony said.

“You think I’m cute?” Peter asked, surprised.

“Yes,” the billionaire said, honestly. “But you’re changing the subject, and I’m not ready to allow that, just yet. What did you mean when you said that you’re hiding from me?”

“I didn’t mean anything,” Peter told him. “Let it drop, okay? Please?”

His expression was so worried – almost afraid – that Tony finally nodded.

“Yeah.” He knew that if he didn’t, Peter would leave, and he’d never be able to get an answer from him. Tony wasn't the most patient guy, but he _was_ one of the most intelligent. Better to let it drop, get to know him better and maybe then he’d tell him. “Yeah, Peter. We can let it drop. You want another drink?”

Peter shook his head.

“No. Thank you.”

“Come finish eating, alright? Before it gets cold.”

“Yeah.” He looked relieved, and Tony offered him his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Thank you.”

Tony led the way back to the table, and Peter resumed his seat.

“Tell me more about what you're studying.”

That was safe enough; and Tony already knew that Peter loved engineering. He recognized that almost immediately.

><><><><>><><> 

They spent a long time at the table, with Tony listening to Peter tell him about his online classes and what he was studying – and what he intended to do with the education once he had his diploma. While they ate, Tony applied himself liberally to the same whiskey that he’d given to Peter – with a bit more enjoyment than the boy had imbibed it with, and he was feeling pretty mellow by the time they finished eating and started clearing the dishes.

“Go ahead and go sit down, Peter,” Tony said to the boy as he started filling the sink with hot, soapy water. “I can handle these.”

“I’ll help,” the boy offered, leaning against the counter, watching Tony with a faint smile that wasn't lost on the older man.

“What’s the smile for?” he asked, curiously.

Peter shrugged.

“Tony Stark doing _dishes_…?” he asked. “That has to be like finding bigfoot or something.”

“You should see me when I’m folding sheets,” Stark told him, good-naturedly.

“You’ll have to invite me back on laundry day.”

Tony smiled.

“It’s a date.”

Peter watched the older man as he started washing dishes, taking them from him one by one and drying them. They were silent for a while, each thinking of the other, and Peter finally spoke – curiosity getting the better of him.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere, instead of in your tower being waited on hand and foot?” he asked.

“They don’t wait on me hand and foot,” Tony told him, not looking up from the saucepan he was washing. “I live alone. Not even a single servant.”

“Housekeeper?”

“Well, yeah. But she just does the laundry and basic things. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

“Why are you here, though? It can’t just be a vacation.”

“It isn’t,” Tony admitted. Maybe if he hadn’t been drinking, he might not have admitted it, but Peter was there, and he was a gentle presence beside Tony. Someone who wasn't asking anything from him, and wasn't tripping over himself to suck up to him or asking for selfies – or anything else. “It’s complicated,” he said, handing the now clean pan over to the boy to dry.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Peter promised.

Tony shrugged.

“It’s not a secret. I mean, yes, I don’t really want the people in town to know who I am, because I don’t want the attention, but I… well, let’s just say the world outside this little burg of yours is better off without me, right now.”

Peter frowned at the self-recrimination in the older man’s tone, and he dried the pot, setting it aside before drying his hands on the same towel and then handing it to Tony after he drained the water from the sink.

“Let’s go sit down, Tony,” he suggested. “I’m getting dishpan hands.”

The billionaire nodded, taking the towel and drying his hands, and then hanging the towel on the handle of the oven. He reached for the bottle, once more, poured another drink and followed Peter to the sofa, sitting down beside the boy.

They were silent for a long moment, and Tony sipped his drink.

“It’s not a pretty story…” he said, staring at the fire.

Peter didn’t say anything. He just sat beside Tony and waited, also staring into the fire. He was very much aware of the man sitting beside him, though, and hesitantly reached out and rested his hand on his leg, to reassure him that he was there – and was listening.

Tony’s eyes grew soft, and moist.

“We were in Belize. A call came in to Natasha that one of her contacts was in trouble, and that a band of heavily armed fighters were going to kill him and his family – and the entire town that they were holed up in – as an object lesson. She wanted to go alone, but Steve said no, that it was too dangerous. So I went, and Cap went – and we had Rhodey with us…”

Peter nodded. He didn’t know any of them, but of course he’d heard of all of them.

“You took the Quinjet?”

Tony nodded, not asking how Peter knew the name of the plane.

“Yeah.” He took a drink of his whiskey. “We had two days of reconnaissance and found that we hadn’t arrived in time to keep the contact from being captured. Him, his wife and their three kids. Romanoff wanted to go in guns blazing, but Steve pointed out that more people might be hurt that way. I was able to get a good read on the layout of the place, and suggested a diversion so the others could sneak in and extract the family.”

Peter tightened his grip on the older man’s leg, and Tony looked down at the hand that was touching him. He rested his own over it and drained the glass, stealing courage from both.

“The explosion was right where I wanted it to be, but the blast wasn't as contained as I intended, and shrapnel flew everywhere. It killed several of the armed captors, and brought part of a building down with the concussion. Killed two more bad guys and wounded a few natives.” His grip on Peter’s hand tightened – probably not even noticing. “It killed one of them.”

“Oh, no…”

Tony sniffed, unable to look at Peter.

“Yeah. The rest of the natives were properly grateful; thanking us for coming to save them, but one family was torn apart, instead of saved… and it was all my fault.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Peter told him, softly. “It was the guys that had the guns and were threatening the town.”

Tony shook his head.

“I tried that, Peter,” he said. “Putting the blame on everyone but me. It didn’t work. I fired the missile, not them.”

“They were the reason you were there. If they hadn’t been there, none of the rest would have happened.”

“It doesn’t work that way.” He wished that it did. He sniffed, letting Peter’s hand go and wiping his eyes and nose with the forearm of his shirt. “So now you know…” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I’m less of a threat to others if I’m here, so he is where I’ll stay.”

“Tony…” Peter hesitated and then, greatly daring, brought his hand up to the man’s shoulder, trying to console him, automatically. “Shh… you’re not a danger to anyone…”

If he’d been more sober, he might have been less susceptible to the touch of another person. Tony sniffed, again, and turned toward Peter rather than away from him, and the boy brought him into his arms with a soft, sympathetic, noise, pulling Tony’s head down to his shoulder.

“I’m so tired of being the hero…” he whispered, brokenly, into Peter’s shirt.

Peter wrapped his arms around him, willing to give the man the support he needed, just then, and hoping it wasn't going to make for any uncomfortable scene once Tony was more sober and less vulnerable.

“Shh,” he whispered, turning his head and pressing a kiss, automatically, against Tony’s temple, holding him. “You don’t have to be the hero, right now. It’s okay, Tony…”

Strong arms came around him, and Peter found himself being clung to in a way that no one had ever held him, before. The billionaire was shaking, despite the warmth coming from the fire in front of them, and the boy let him go long enough to reach for a blanket that had been neatly folded over the back of the sofa. He covered Tony with it, and then brought his arm back around him without missing a beat.

“You’re okay, Tony,” he promised him. “You’ll see…”

The only answer he heard was another sorrowful sniff, and a tightening of the arms that were holding him. Peter ran his fingers through Tony’s hair, comfortingly, and whispered assurances to him as the older man trembled, and then eventually fell asleep against him.

Peter shook his head, well aware that no one would ever believe him if he told them what was happening, just then, but he found that he wasn't in any real hurry to let the sleeping form he was holding onto go, any time soon. It was warm and safe, and it had been a long time since he’d been held – and never by another man who wasn't Ben (or his father, but he honestly didn’t remember his father well enough to be sure that he knew what that had felt like). Instead of letting him go, or putting him to bed, Peter just shifted into a slightly more comfortable position and continued to hold Tony, watching as the fire burned and listening to the snow falling outside the thick cabin walls.


	6. 6

A soft groan woke Peter, followed almost immediately by a hand running down his side, tenderly.

He opened his eyes, realizing that he’d fallen asleep still holding Tony, that the fire had burned out, and to judge from the faint light coming through the windows, it was morning. And Tony was waking up, now.

“Please don’t be _Steve Rogers_…” the older man murmured, still running his hand along the body he was pressed up against. “_Anyone_ but Steve Rogers…”

Peter chuckled.

“No. Definitely not Captain America.”

Tony pulled away, opening his eyes – which were bloodshot and watery – and looking at Peter, confused.

“What…? Shit. I fell asleep?”

Or _passed out_? He couldn’t remember.

The boy gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah. You must have been pretty tired. I fell asleep, too,” he added, blushing when he realized that he was sporting a half-mast erection. Morning wood wasn't uncommon with him, but getting a hard on when holding Tony Stark in his arms definitely was. “I didn’t want to wake you…”

“I’m a shitty host,” Tony said, rubbing his face and wincing at the headache that was forming behind his right eye. “Tell me I didn’t do anything… improper?”

Peter smiled and shook his head; glad his thigh was blocking Tony’s view of his lap – although he was already deflating.

“You fed me a good dinner and we talked.”

Tony frowned, clearly trying to remember exactly what they’d discussed, and must have remembered, then, because his expression changed to chagrin.

“I’d appreciate it if you not tell anyone else in your little burg about me being here – or why… Especially the why.”

“I won’t,” Peter assured him.

No would believe him, anyway.

Tony heaved himself to his feet, shedding the blanket that had been covering both of them.

“It’s a good thing we have electric heat,” he said, rubbing his arms to try and get circulation going, again. “Otherwise letting the fire go out would be a mistake.”

It was a little chilly in the cabin – which told Tony that it was probably _really_ cold, outside.

“I love a fire in the fireplace,” Peter told him, approvingly. “It’s comforting.”

Tony looked at his watch.

“It’s still pretty early. Why don’t I bring you a warmer blanket and a pillow – that isn’t _me_ – and you can go back to sleep for a while?”

“I should get home,” the boy told him, shrugging – although he wasn't quite ready to get to his feet. “I didn’t plan on staying the night.”

“The least I can do is feed you breakfast before you go – a thank you for letting me cuddle all night.”

“I liked it.” Peter flushed, brilliantly, as his mouth said what his brain was thinking without using his normal filter. “I mean… it wasn't _so bad_. Really.”

Tony smiled at that; his expression unreadable.

“Stay for breakfast, Peter. Please?”

Still trying to cool his reddened cheeks, he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you.” He got to his feet, then, and stretched, looking around and unaware of the look that Tony was giving him – or the fact that the motion brought his t-shirt up a little, baring his stomach for just a moment. “What are you making?”

The billionaire shrugged.

“No clue. Are you a hot cereal guy? Or bacon and eggs?”

“I’ll eat anything.”

The boy walked over to the window, pulling the curtain aside to look out, and made a soft whistling sound that drew Tony to his side.

“You’ve got to be _kidding_ me…” The snow that had started the evening before was still falling, and there was a heavy accumulation already on the ground. There were three steps leading up to the cabin’s front porch, and they were buried under snow. “Is this normal?”

“It _can_ be,” Peter said. “It’s still coming down, too. I should probably go before I can’t get home.”

“It’s probably already reached that point,” Tony told him, shivering just thinking about being out in the snowfall. “You can’t go out in that. Not with the jacket you brought. You’ll freeze before you get halfway to town. Wait until it clears up a bit, and I’ll drive you.”

“That’s alright. It’ll be too deep to drive in until they get out and start clearing roads – and private roads are the last priority.”

Tony shrugged.

“Then I guess you’re snowed in with me,” he said, his expression not showing just how pleased that he was at the thought of having Peter’s undivided attention for a little while. Maybe he’d manage to figure out the kid’s secret. Or maybe he’d have another opportunity to cuddle. That had been nice – and Peter had enjoyed it, too, apparently. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”

The young man hesitated, but he liked the idea of having a little more time with Tony, too. The guy was freaking _Ironman_, after all. At least that was what he told himself. He shrugged, and let himself be convinced.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

“Nope. It’ll be great. Now, since you aren’t going to be able to leave, why don’t you go back to bed? I’m going to.”

Peter nodded.

“Alright.”

“Good answer.”

Tony moved away from the window and vanished into his bedroom, only to return with a blanket and a fat pillow which he handed over to Peter.

“Need anything?”

Like someone to hold?

The boy smiled, shyly, and shook his head.

“Thank you. It’ll only be until the snow stops. I’ll be able to walk home once it’s not coming down like it is.”

“You’re welcome here, Peter,” Tony assured him, unable to stop from reaching out and touching his chin, briefly. “I’ll make breakfast in a couple of hours but there’s plenty of food in the fridge and the pantry if you get hungry before then.”

Peter nodded, moving toward the sofa and already starting to make up the blankets into more of a bed.

“Thanks, Tony.”

The older man left him, closing the bedroom door behind him and almost immediately sliding his hand down under the jeans that he’d fallen asleep wearing the evening before. Peter Parker was fucking adorable.

Peter watched Tony go, closing the door behind him. Then he walked over to the window, again, pulling the curtain aside. He _should_ probably just go, he thought to himself, as he watched the snow falling outside. He wasn't going to freeze to death if he walked from the cabin back to his place in town.

Tony Stark wasn't just some small-town hick, after all – he was a lot smarter and perceptive than the people Peter was used to dealing with. He’d almost certainly find out Peter’s secret. Would find out what Peter could do.

The young man felt his mouth go dry at the thought. What would he do if he _did_? Tony was friends with Bruce Banner, and Banner was a _research_ scientist – not an engineer, like Tony was and Peter wanted to be. Banner might want to run experiments on him, or try to see what his limits were. Peter’s imagination had no trouble seeing himself chained to a table and being dissected. Maybe not by _Tony_, of course – and probably not by _Banner_ – but by some mad scientist who wanted to learn Peter’s secrets. Or figure out a way to duplicate them.

He sat down on the sofa, shivering, and pulled the blankets over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around himself. It had been nice to fall asleep with someone with him for a change. To be held and to hold. That wasn't something that he could ever remember doing, even with _May and Ben_, really, and even that wouldn’t have brought out the same emotions that having Tony holding him had.

Peter felt a stirring within him, and he shivered, again. This time it didn’t have anything to do with fear, or with cold. He wondered if he’d be able to get Tony to hold him, again. He seemed like he’d wanted to be held, had wanted to hold. Peter was well aware of the fact that he was touch starved, and had been for a long time. That was one of the problems with hiding. But the hiding was all that would keep him safe, he knew. Maybe once he’d finished his schooling, gained a few more years’ worth of experience and confidence.

The young man leaned into the pillow, closing his eyes, but it was a long time before he actually went back to sleep.


	7. 7

“Are you going to sleep all day?”

Peter shivered at the voice in his ear, and opened his eyes, owlishly, surprised to find that Tony’s face was right next to his own. He literally could have reached up and touched him, if he wanted to. Instead, he stretched, and Tony stayed close.

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. And before you ask; it’s still snowing, so you might as well figure you’re going to spend the night. Is there anyone that you need to call, to let them know you’re safe?”

“My boss at the store, so he knows I’m not coming in. He’ll have closed, though. Everyone holes up in their homes when it snows like this. There’s no place to go.”

“No significant other?”

Peter blushed, unaccountably, and shook his head.

“No. Just me.”

Tony’s smile was warm, and he moved back just a little from where he was leaning over the back of the couch.

“Make your call, honey,” he said. “I’ll start lunch.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“They must plan on being snowed in, here,” Tony told Peter as they sat at the table and ate stew (from a can) and rolls that Tony had baked fresh – not from scratch, though.

“Why do you say that?” Peter asked, curiously.

“They have all kinds of board games and card games stocked up in the closet. Along with extra blankets, pillows and snow shovels.”

“At least we won’t be bored,” Peter replied. He hesitated. “It can get _really_ deep, though,” he told the older man. “We might really be stuck here for a while.”

Tony just shrugged.

“You already know my story, Peter… I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere, anyway.”

“You’re not _really_ going to stop being Ironman, though, are you? I mean… I can’t even imagine that.”

“It’s not like I signed a contract, or anything.”

“You kind of _did_, though,” Peter said. “A _verbal_ contract, if nothing else. You-“

“Hey… can we change the subject?” Tony requested, and Peter bit his lower lip. “I’m not mad, or anything, honey,” he said. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because it makes you upset?”

He wondered if Stark called everyone honey. It wasn't the first time he’d used the term with him, after all.

“Because it reminds me of my screw up. I came here to get away from that.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Bearing in mind that I am a _genius_, do you want to play a game or something after we’re done eating?”

“Sure.” Peter smiled. “I should probably remind you that _I’m_ a genius, too, though.”

Which made Tony’s eyes light up, amused.

“Good. I like a challenge.”

><><><>> 

“I think you’re cheating.”

Tony smirked, looking over his cards at the younger man.

“Or… I’m better at this than you.”

“No. You’re cheating. I just haven’t figured out how, yet.”

“There’s no cheating in rummy, Peter. Stop being such a poor loser.”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Easy for you to say; you’re not down fifteen thousand dollars.”

“It’s _monopoly_ money,” Tony reminded him, tossing another $500 bill into the pot. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“Still…”

He made a show of examining the cards that he was holding, flashing his hand as he did. “Are they marked?”

“They were in the closet, honey,” Tony pointed out. “You saw me get them.”

“Yeah.”

They were playing rummy, but had started with War, and had switched to Gin when that had become boring. Rummy was more interesting – and even more so when they pulled the bills out of the monopoly game and started betting on each hand. It was obvious, though, who was better at card games. The piles of neatly stacked bills in front of Tony said it all.

Peter shook his head; still wondering about being called honey, but he didn’t ask, because he kind of liked it and he didn’t want to draw attention to it and maybe have Tony stop calling him the endearment. He had to admit that he was having a good time. Tony was intelligent and Peter was enjoying his company – never mind the fact that it was _Tony Stark_, right?

“I think you’re a Rummy shark, determined to swindle me out of all of my monopoly money.”

Tony’s smile clearly showed that he was enjoying himself, as well.

“I’ll tell you what; you can choose the next game – and the stakes.”

Peter hesitated, debating and thinking about the various games that he’d seen on the shelf in the closet. “Trivial Pursuit and the loser makes a snow angel in the front yard.”

“Oh, it’s _on_, Peter Parker.” Stark’s eyes were amused. “In his _underwear_…”

The boy nodded.

“You’re on.”

><><><><><> 

Trivial Pursuit was more than just answering questions. It was that, of course – and getting the answers right. But it was also about landing on the right spaces and getting the dice to work in your favor. Which was a good thing, because the two learned very quickly that the other was a trivia master. Tony, because he had twice as much life experience as Peter did, and the knowledge that comes with it, and _Peter_ because he was still in school and inundated with trivia each time he logged onto the internet.

The game was incredibly close – much closer than Tony intended, and he scowled when Peter made a victorious whoop, putting the last blue piece into his pie.

“That’s game,” he said, his brown eyes lit up with happiness.

And why wouldn’t he be happy? He just beat Tony Stark at Trivial Pursuit.

“Two out of three.”

“Sure – after you make a snow angel in the front yard.”

Tony scowled.

“It’s still snowing out.”

Peter smiled.

“Yeah. And it can’t be a snow _blob_, either. It has to show wings and everything.”

“You’re a cruel man, Peter,” Tony said, standing up. “Cruel…”

“_You_ added in the underwear thing,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah, but it wasn't supposed to be me in my underwear,” Tony said, pulling off his shirt at the door and handing it to Peter. “It was supposed to be you.”

The boy grinned, taking pity on him.

“I’ll tell you what… you can just run out and back in.”

“No. I made the bet and I’ll stick with it.” Tony undid his pants and slid them down, answering the boxers or briefs question – even though Peter hadn’t considered asking it. “No pictures,” he added, now standing in just his boxers and already rubbing his arms, since he knew it was going to be cold.

“Fair enough.” Peter reached for the doorknob. “Ready?”

“Have I mentioned how cruel you are…?”

“I’m sweet and innocent. Ready?”

“Open the door.”

Peter flung it open, and Tony took a deep breath and then ran out into the falling snow, jumped off the porch rather than take the time to use the stairs. He dropped into the pristine snow and as quickly as he could spread arms and legs a few times, snow flying in every direction.

“That’s good!” Peter called and Tony clambered to his feet gasping at the cold and ran back inside with a rush.

“Jesus…”

With a laugh, Peter threw the blanket from the couch over Tony’s bare shoulders, rubbing him to get his blood circulating.

“That was awesome.”

“Yeah? You can put that on my gravestone,” the billionaire said, shivering. “I’ll probably catch pneumonia and that’s the end of Ironman.”

“Go stand by the fire, you’ll be fine.”

With the blanket still wrapped around him, Tony did as he was told, feeling the heat of the fire increase as Peter poked the logs that were blazing behind the safety screen.

“That’s nice, honey,” he said, approvingly, holding the blanket open, now, and soaking up the heat. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The boy smiled. “Want your pants?”

“In a minute. I’m not dry, yet.” He sat down on the sofa, and leaned back, wallowing like a contented cat, and looked up at him. “Sit by me.”

Peter did as he was told, but he was feeling a little flushed. From the heat of the fire, or the undeniably exciting sight of a mostly naked Tony Stark sitting on the couch – or both.

“You’re not too cold, are you?”

“I’m fine,” Tony assured him. “You’re making lunch, though. I’m going to sit right here until it’s finished and on the table.”

“Wait… I won the game and I have to make lunch?”

“Yup. Welcome to my world. I want grilled ham and cheese.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“And if I told you I don’t know how to cook?”

“Do you?”

“Well… yes.”

He’d been living on his own since he was sixteen. Learning to cook had been a priority. Tony preened.

“Good. There’s some pepper jack cheese in there. Make mine with that and cheddar, will you?”

><><><><> 

Grilled ham and cheese wasn't that hard to make.

Peter liked being in the kitchen – as long as it wasn't anything too complicated – so he was humming while he pulled all the ingredients out of the fridge, and Tony closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of something so domestic going on behind him.

He was thoroughly enjoying Peter’s company; the young man was intelligent, adorable and had a great sense of humor. Imagine sending him outside into the snowstorm to make a snow angel. _Ironman_. The man that he was so afraid of, even though Tony still had no idea why that was.

He was going to have to figure out how to get Peter to open up to him and tell him, because whatever it was, Tony didn’t like it. And he was most certainly beginning to like Peter. He smiled, still not opening his eyes, as he felt himself harden a little, sitting right there in front of the fire and thinking about those big, brown eyes and those full lips Peter had. Lips that were perfect for kissing, Tony was certain. They probably tasted delicious. Tony’s hand slid down to his lap, idly, brushing the bulge in his boxers and bringing the blanket over him to cover the motion, just in case Peter came into the living room.

It had been a long time since he’d had someone under him, and he had no problem imaging Peter in that position.

“Tony?”

The billionaire opened his eyes, looking up at the sound of Peter’s voice. He hadn’t heard the boy walk up behind him; the kid was unnaturally quiet, apparently, when he wanted to be.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Lunch is ready.”

Tony frowned.

“I must have dozed off, sorry.”

Peter smiled.

“Snow does that to me, too. I could nap all day when it snows like it is. Especially in front of a fire. Do you want me to just bring you lunch in here? It’d be more comfortable.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No. Not at all.” He leaned over the back of the couch and slid his hand under the blanket, touching Tony’s shoulder. “You don’t feel chilled, so you’re probably going to survive losing the game and being forced outside.”

Tony automatically reached for Peter’s hand, holding it in place against his skin for just a moment, his eyes locking on the boy’s, and feeling himself twitch, once more. Jesus Christ, he was almost _edible_.

“So far…” he agreed. “I might need someone to cuddle up against me – just to keep me warm.”

Peter blushed, but Tony was pleased to see him smile in response to what was not so subtle flirting. Tony didn’t do subtle well, after all.

“You probably wouldn’t have too much trouble finding someone willing to do that, I imagine.”

“No. But just because they want to, it doesn’t mean that I would want them close. I’m pretty fickle.”

He was _now_ anyway. There was a time when he didn’t care, really.

Peter moved his hand away.

“Lunch is going to get cold. I’ll be right back.”

“Bring me my bottle, will you, honey?”

“I’d rather you were sober,” Peter said.

The older man rolled his eyes, even though Peter couldn’t see it.

“I need some liquid courage.”

The boy returned in a moment carrying two plates with a couple of grilled sandwiches on each – and two bottles of grape juice.

“You’re a superhero, Tony,” he reminded him. “You don’t need liquid courage.”

“Peter…”

“Eat,” Peter said, settling beside him. “If you eat all your lunch, I could be talked into sitting with you for a while and enjoying the fire.”

“Yeah?”

The boy blushed, but shrugged.

“Sure.”

“Under the blankets with me?”

Just the slightest of hesitations and then he nodded.

“Yes.”

><>><><<>>< 

“This is good.”

Peter smiled.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m a good cook.”

“Who taught you?”

“My uncle. He said it was a life lesson. _A man should always be able to make himself something more filling than a bowl of cereal and toast_.”

“Sounds like a smart guy.”

Peter nodded.

“He was. Of course, then my aunt would send him out of the kitchen so that she could make dinner. He could cook, but he only had a few things that he really liked to make, and she’d get tired of the lack of variety and would take over.”

Tony laughed at that, pleased that Peter was much more relaxed with him, now, than he had been. Enough that he didn’t even look nervous – much less afraid. He wasn't quite ready to try to pry the reason for that nervousness out of him, just yet, though. Rather, he wanted to enjoy his time with him, and didn’t want Peter uncomfortable, and maybe feeling trapped.

“Thanks for making lunch,” he said, putting his plate aside and leaning back into the sofa. The blanket that he’d been wrapped in was now pretty much just around his waist and lap; his shoulders, chest and belly were bare, and nicely warmed by the fire. “I should make snow angels more often, if I get coddled like this, after.”

Peter shook his head, clearly amused.

“I’m not coddling you,” he told Tony.

“What would you call it, then?” The older man asked, spreading his arms a little. “You bundled me in a blanket, put me in front of a raging fire and made me lunch. Sure seems like I’m being coddled.”

The boy shrugged.

“I’m just making sure you don’t get sick. Taking care of you now will make sure that you don’t require even more attention later. See how that works?”

Tony smiled.

“Either way, I appreciate it. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Peter reached over Tony and picked up his empty plate. “Drink your juice. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Bring something to do while you’re up,” Tony requested.

“Like…?”

“Bring the trivia cards from the Trivial Pursuit game.”

“You’re in the mood for another jaunt out into the snow?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

Which amused Tony, although he only rolled his eyes.

“No. I thought we could just quiz each other and establish the greater mind. And for your information, smart ass, you got lucky, beating me like that.”

“And yet, here I am warm and dry – and _dressed_…”

“It’s on, kid… bring the cards.”

Peter laughed, and did as he was told, while Tony shifted a little on the sofa, debated getting dressed and decided that he was comfortable, and the blanket was enough to keep him warm. Really, he probably didn’t even need that, but he’d keep it on, anyway.

For the moment, at least.


	8. 8

It was a good way to spend a relaxing afternoon.

Tony and Peter cuddled on the sofa in front of the fire with a box of Trivial Pursuit card split between them. Each read the other all the questions on the card – a single question for each subject. If the person being quizzed answered more right than wrong on the card, they got the card. If not, the other did. The person with the most cards by the time they were done was going to be declared the winner.

No luck of the draw, or dice, just pure knowledge.

Tony thoroughly enjoyed himself, and Peter was so relaxed that he’d sprawled into a more comfortable position on the couch, with his feet on the older man’s leg and a poofy cushion propping him up so he could see Tony, easier.

“Last question,” Tony said, looking at the card.

“Bring it on.”

Their stacks of cards were so closely matched that neither was sure who was ahead, really.

“Name the King who lost the American colonies.”

“George.”

“The…?”

Peter smirked.

“Third.”

“Whatever.”

Peter grinned at the pout, and took the card, adding it to his pile and sitting up.

“Start counting,” he said. “Unless you just want to concede the win to me? I promise not to send you back out into the snow.”

“I’m not conceding anything, honey,” Tony told him. “And you will be going out into the snow. Bare-assed naked.”

“What? I let you wear your underwear.”

“You’re a better man than I am.”

Peter shook his head, and started counting cards.

><><><<><> 

“I want a recount.”

“You already did. Twice.”

“Third time is the charm.”

“Nope.” Tony smirked – although it had been a lot closer than he really had anticipated. Peter Parker was a very smart young man. “You lost. Face it.”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Snow angel.”

“Naked.”

“You understand I’ll freeze… Pieces of me might fall off that I want to eventually _use_, some day.”

Tony smiled.

“The implication being that you haven’t used it, yet?’

Which made Peter blush, but he was good-natured, and he shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“It’s a risk that you should have considered before you got cocky and made the bet,” Tony told him, heartlessly, pulling the blanket that he was wearing off, and standing up to walk over to the door and look out the window beside it. “Oh, look… it’s still snowing, too. The snow will be nice and fresh.”

“You’re so cruel…” Peter looked out the window, too. “I expect you to coddle me, after. You know that, right?”

Since they both knew that was exactly what Tony wanted – and sending him out into the snow was simply his way to make it happen – and especially good way to get the boy as naked as he was, Tony’s smile wasn't much of a surprise.

“All you want, honey. And Peter…?”

“Yes?”

“Makes sure the wings are clearly wings.”

Peter rolled his eyes again and pulled off his shirt, still shaking his head.

“So cruel…”

Tony just smirked, again, and held his hand out for the shirt.

“Take my advice and don’t dawdle. It’ll only be worse for you.”

><><><><>< 

It was definitely weird to be undressing in front of another guy – at least in a setting that wasn’t a locker room.

Which was something that Peter hadn’t done since high school. The undressing part was definitely overshadowed by the idea of running out into the snow bare-assed naked. His skin was already developing goosebumps and he pulled his boxers down with his pants, feeling a secret thrill when he saw Tony’s eyes roam his body.

Then he took a deep breath, opened the door and ran out into the blowing snow, tossed himself into the first snowdrift, flopped over onto his back and waved his arms and legs eight times – he counted as his body screamed protests about what he was doing – and then he scrambled to his feet and ran back to the door, which Tony closed in his face just as he hit the porch.

Peter’s feet slid to a stop in the wet wood of the front porch, but before he even tried the door, it opened, Tony’s expression amused, and a smile on his face.

“Just kidding. Get in here.”

Peter hurried inside and a blanket was immediately tossed over his shoulders. Strong hands grasped his arms and pulled him bodily over to the sofa, steering him to stand in front of the fire.

“You’re lucky,” the boy told him, through teeth that were suddenly chattering. “I would have been forced to throw you out in the snow, if you’d actually locked me out.”

Tony smirked, looking down at himself, still only wearing his boxers.

“I _am_ lucky, then,” he agreed. He doubted that someone as slim as Peter would have been able to actually do it, though. “You realize I’m _bigger_ than you, though, right?”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

Peter blushed then, uncomfortable, as he skirted the conversation close to his abilities – even if it wasn’t directly. Luckily Tony couldn’t tell since his cheeks were already red with cold.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” the older man said, rubbing the blanket along his shoulders and upper arms to get circulation flowing.

Peter held himself still and allowed it, his brown eyes watching Tony’s as he was made much of and then eased down onto the sofa, another blanket piled on over the first.

“I can’t believe you ran out there naked,” Stark said, with a snort, settling in beside him, sitting close – ostensibly to share the warmth of his own body with Peter to help him stop shivering.

“You _made_ me.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“I would have let you talk me into keeping your boxers on. I’m not a _monster_, after all.”

Peter shook his head, amused.

“You _are_,” he disagreed. “I should make good on the threat to throw you out in a snowbank…”

“Or you can let me cuddle with you and warm you up,” the billionaire replied, his eyes suddenly intense. Intense enough that Peter shivered, again, despite the two blankets he had covering him.

“That sounds reasonable,” Peter agreed, moving a little, to make sure that Tony understood the invitation.

The older man smiled, feeling just a little thrill of excitement, himself, as he moved to settle on the couch. To Peter’s surprise, he went to the end of the sofa, sitting sideways with one leg pressed against the side of the back of the couch, and the other foot on the floor. Lounging like he was, wearing only his boxers, he was an exciting sight to Peter.

More exciting when the man patted his chest in invitation.

“You have all the _blankets_, honey,” Tony told him. “That means that you have to help keep me warm.”

It could have gone wrong, of course.

Tony might have been pushing for a little more than Peter was willing. He’d never been one to back down – or step back and overthink something, though, and he really liked the idea of some _intimate_ cuddling with Peter. He watched the boy’s expressive face as he realized what he was doing, and what he meant, and there was only a moment’s hesitation before Peter got up and with cheeks reddening (maybe from warming up, but almost certainly not) the young man settled himself into Tony’s embrace.

Even better – and more intimate – he shifted as he did, opening the blankets to make certain that Tony was warmly covered by them, and in doing so exposing his bare body to the fire warmed belly and chest of the billionaire, who smothered a groan of excitement and wrapped his arms around Peter and tucked him against him until the boy was basically playing blanket for him. Peter’s body was along Tony’s, one of the older man’s knees on either side of him, supporting him.

Peter brought his head down to Tony’s shoulder, shivering a little.

“It’s okay?” Tony asked, softly.

“Yeah. I think so.”

There was a lot of flesh touching, just then, but neither was in any hurry to do more than lay there. Peter’s skin was still chilled against Tony’s, and he ran his hand along the boy’s side and back, trying to warm him, and enjoying the closeness. Peter shivered with each motion, but Tony didn’t think it was because he was cold.

Just to be sure, though, he was careful to tuck the blankets more firmly around them.

“This is nice,” Peter said, almost sleepily.

A fire on a snowy day and warm arounds around you will do that to a person.

“Yes, it is.” Tony tilted his head and pressed a kiss against Peter’s hair. “Are you warming up, at all?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

The billionaire chuckled, sliding his hand down to palm the swell of the boy’s perfect ass.

“Can I do this?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes.”

Tony’s hand kneaded the flesh there, idly, in no hurry to do anything more, just then. The intent was to warm and to spend time with Peter. The way the snow was still coming down, they had plenty of time to move things along – if Peter was even interested in that.

“Tell me more about yourself, Tony,” Peter murmured, his hand resting lightly against the older man’s side. “What do you like to do for fun when you’re not running your company, or being Ironman?”

Tony shrugged, his hand still cupping that handful of flesh.

“I build things, honey.”

“Like your suits?”

“Mostly. But other things, too. I love tech. Love to have an idea in my head and then watch it come together in the workshop.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend?” Peter asked. “I see your picture everywhere, and usually with some woman or the other on your arm.”

Tony chuckled.

“It’s called putting up a front. If people think I’m taken, then they stop throwing themselves at me. So the rule is I don’t go to a party – or anywhere that’s too public – without having someone with me to buffer me from the rest of the world.”

“Always a _woman_?”

The billionaire’s hand stilled on Peter’s rear.

“Meaning do I like men?”

“Yeah.”

“I _love_ men, honey. Women are pretty, and soft, and amazing, of course, but another man…? Well, there’s nothing like a hard body under me, firm legs wrapped around me…”

They both felt his previously placid penis suddenly twitch, and Peter smiled, shifting just enough to not be laying on it, and Tony sighed when the boy’s hand was suddenly resting on the fabric of his boxers, directly over the soft swelling there.

“Why aren’t you naked?” Peter asked, softly.


	9. 9

Tony didn’t even hesitate.

“Let me up for a moment.”

Peter did as he was told, getting to his feet and taking the blankets with him, both of them draped over his shoulders. He watched Tony get up and then pull his boxers down and off, revealing his entire body to the young man, who couldn’t help but allow _his_ gaze to roam.

The billionaire smiled and reclaimed his position, somewhat aroused cock laying against his thigh, lazily, and eyes warm when he looked up at the boy.

“Better?”

Peter nodded, flushing, unable to take his eyes from Tony. Not just his penis – although it was so erotic (and exciting) to see all of him like he was seeing. To know that they were almost certainly going to –

“Hey. I’m getting cold, honey…” he said, patting his chest, pointedly, jerking Peter from his thoughts.

“Sorry.”

Still heated, and now sporting the beginning of his own erection, Peter resettled between those wonderfully muscled thighs, allowing his head to go back to Tony’s shoulder as he felt Tony arranging the blankets over them, again, to trap their body heat and the warmth of the fire.

Tony chuckled, almost feeling nervous as he brought his hand back to Peter’s ass to cup it, once more.

What do _you_ do for fun, Peter?” he asked. “Besides seduce stranded hermits?”

“I haven’t seduced you, yet,” Peter told him, running his hand along Tony’s side. “There really isn’t much to do here. I work, do school and research, watch movies.”

“Porn?”

“Sometimes,” Peter admitted.

“No girlfriend?”

“No.”

“No _boyfriend_?”

“No. No one. Just me.”

Tony turned his head and brushed his lips against Peter’s for the first time.

“Sounds lonely.”

“Yeah. A little.”

A _lot_.

“I know the feeling.”

Poor baby.

Tony’s arms tightened around Peter, and it was obvious that he wasn't in any hurry to get up and cook – and Peter wasn't in any hurry to give up his naked pillow. He doubted that Tony knew what he felt; he was famous and had people all around him – and wasn't hiding from the rest of the world, who were almost certainly interested in him, even if they didn’t know it, yet.

“It this weird?” he asked the older man, knowing that he was a lot more experienced with life – and pretty much _everything_.

“What?” Tony asked. “Me holding you? Naked?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it _feel_ weird?”

“I like it.”

“Then it’s not weird,” Tony assured him. “I like it, too.”

Peter smiled, melting even further against him, finally warming up, too. He ran his hand lightly along Tony’s side, down to his hip, somewhat surprised by his own boldness.

“Tell me what _else_ you like, Tony,” he requested. “Something no one else knows about you…”

“I sing opera in the shower because I like the acoustics.”

Peter turned his head to look up at him, trying to decide if he was teasing him. When Tony looked down at him, though, there was nothing in his expression that made him think that he wasn't telingl him the truth.

“In French?”

“In Italian.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to hear that, some time.”

Tony’s smile was almost predatory, then, and Peter shivered, despite not being cold.

“That can be arranged.” The boy blushed, then, and Tony kissed him, again, lightly. “Your turn, honey.”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me what you like. Or tell me something that no one knows about you.”

Peter froze, and Tony was easily close enough to him to feel how tense he suddenly was.

“I…”

The older man soothed him, gently, his hands caressing his back, and his thighs, and then his rear.

“_Not_ whatever secret that is,” he qualified. “A _different_ secret. Something I can tease you about, later.”

“I like Disney movies.”

“What?”

“You know… the old cartoons? I’ll pretend to be annoyed when they come on, but I won’t turn the TV off.”

“_Seriously_?”

“Yeah.”

Tony smiled.

“That’s fucking adorable.”

Peter pressed his face against Tony’s bare chest, pleased that he’d made him smile. His hand was resting on the older man’s stomach, and he was definitely enjoying the way it felt to have Tony’s hand holding his rear, almost possessively.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it,” he said. “Then I’ll have to sue you for slander, or something.”

Which made Tony chuckle, again.

“Your secret is safe with me, honey,” he promised. “_Anything_ you tell me is safe with me.”

Peter trembled at the words, and Tony’s grip tightened on the boy’s bottom. To distract him, he kissed him, again, this time sliding his tongue along Peter’s lower lip, waiting patiently for him to respond. When his mouth opened, slightly, Tony pressed his advantage and his tongue found Peter’s, tasting him for the first time and making the younger man moan, softly, into the kiss.

Tony pulled back after a moment, meeting Peter’s pretty brown eyes.

“You okay?”

He _looked_ okay. Eyes wide with want – which matched the slowly stiffening flesh that was pinned between them and pressed against Tony’s thigh.

“Yes.”

Peter licked his lower lip, and Tony groaned and kissed him, again, wanting to taste him. As his hand slid down Peter’s thigh, he shifted just a little, his hand gaining purchase and lifting the boy’s leg enough to let him look down between them.

“You’re so pretty, Peter,” he murmured, enjoying the sight of them so intimately close. “I want you…”

Peter felt his heart skip a beat. The words, or the expression on Tony's face – or maybe the knowledge that the older man was looking down between them, seeing him as someone would see a lover. Whatever it was, it was exciting. Like every porno that he’d ever watched, combined with every romantic love story movie he’d ever seen, or book that he’d ever read.

True, Tony was pretty much out of his league, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy his attentions while he had him to himself. It wasn't like he was going to knock him up and leave him alone to raise a baby, after all, and if you were going to lose your virginity, who better than someone like Tony, who had all the experience in the world to offset his own real lack of it?

There was definitely a need for full disclosure, though – even though they’d brushed on it in an earlier conversation.

“I want you, too, Tony,” Peter told him, honestly, his hand moving lightly on Tony’s chest. “But I’ve never done this, before.

“It’s okay, honey,” Tony assured him, feeling himself get harder at the admission, and enjoying it. “We’ll take our time.” He kissed Peter, again. “You’ve watched porn, though, so you know what happens…”

The boy chuckled.

“I had that talk with my uncle when I was eleven.”

“It’s a little different between guys. Do you want to be top, or bottom?”

Peter leaned back, surprised.

“I get to _choose_?”

The billionaire finally reached down between them and found Peter’s cock, his fingers wrapping around it, learning the shape of him, and the size.

“Of course.”

Peter hesitated, closing his eyes at the pleasure coursing through him, emanating from Tony’s grasp on him.

“I don’t… _bottom_, I think.”

The thought of having Tony above him was almost intoxicating, really. The idea of being the guy under him, feeling him inside him? Well, that was exciting enough that his cock literally jumped in Tony’s hand, making them both smile.

“Eager?”

“A little.”

A _lot_.

“There’s no rush, though, yeah?” Tony let him go and brought his hand up to Peter’s cheek, kissing him, softly. “We literally have days, if we want, since the snow has trapped us in here so conveniently.”

“Don’t make me wait days, Tony,” Peter told him, hitching his hips just a little to slide his cock against the older man’s leg. “I’ll probably die.”

“So would I,” Tony admitted, kissing him, again. “Do we do this, now? Or do I make you dinner, first, and wine you and dine you and then make you my dessert?”

Peter smiled.

“You decide.”

“Let’s eat, first, then,” Tony said, kissing him, anyway. “Then I won’t have to listen to growling stomachs, and I can have you for hours without interruption.”

“Does it take that long?”

The question made Tony chuckle, and he had to pull away before he changed him mind, pressing against Peter’s chest to silently tell the boy to let him up.

“It isn’t going to be a fifteen minute porno, Peter,” he promised, admiring Peter’s body as the boy got to his feet, cock mostly erect, now, and so desirable that Tony sat up and pulled Peter close so he could nuzzle his lips against the skin of Peter’s pelvis. His cheek brushed the hard shaft, but he didn’t allow himself to touch him. He didn’t have that much self-control, he knew. Start now, and he’d _finish_ now. “I’m going to make your first time unforgettable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not getting much feedback on this story, which leads me to believe there's not much interest in it. I hope it isn't boring :/  
(not that I'm going to stop posting it but I hate the idea of being uninteresting)


	10. 10

Peter shivered at the promise, even though he was holding all the blankets. His hand brushed through Tony’s hair, watching as the older man nuzzled him so intimately.

“We could just start now…”

Tony chuckled, and forced himself to pull away and stand up.

“We _could_, but we’re not going to.” The billionaire vanished into his bedroom for a moment and returned wearing pajama bottoms and a black long-sleeved thermal underwear shirt. He was carrying a bundle of clothing that he handed to Peter. “Those won’t fit you very well, but they’ll be more comfortable than running around in jeans and warmer than being naked.”

Peter dropped the blankets onto the couch and dressed; Tony hadn’t been wrong, though. The shirt was baggy and only a draw string kept the lounge pants from falling off his skinny hips.

“Thanks.”

He followed the billionaire into the kitchen, but sat down on a stool to watch, rather than help. Tony busied himself looking in the pantry, and Peter heard the dull clanking of cans being moved around.

“Stew?” He asked, looking at Peter.

“Anything’s fine.”

And it was quick. Peter was just a little antsy, now that he’d had a taste of the loving that Tony was promising, and impatient to experience more.

“There are some heat and serve rolls in the fridge,” the older man told him. “We’ll have a pretty good meal, I think.”

“Yeah.” He smiled at the boy while he used a manual can opener to open the cans of stew, and wasn’t able to resist leaning over and kissing him, lightly. “Have I mentioned how adorable you are?”

Peter blushed, pleased at the compliment, and his smile was enough to make Tony shake his head. He really _was_ adorable.

Peter sat and kept him company while he dumped a couple of cans of stew into a saucepan and then set it on the stove. Between that and pulling a few rolls for each of them out of the fridge and putting them in the oven, he stole a few tender kisses, and a couple of long embraces, tucking the boy’s head right up under his chin and enjoying the fact that Peter seemed to be all in with the idea of being cuddled – and giving cuddles of his own.

“Set the table?” He asked, releasing him, reluctantly, the second time.

Peter nodded, standing up and standing next to Tony to reach for a couple of bowls and spoons.

“No one’s missing you, right now?” He asked. “_You_ didn’t call anyone when I called my boss.”

“They know where to find me,” Tony told him, with a shrug. “It’s the _Avengers_, after all. I can’t really _hide_ from them. But they know not to come looking for me, either.”

“You’re not _really_ going to stop being Ironman, are you?” Peter asked, sliding his hand along Tony’s side, under his shirt, warmly.

Tony sighed, and pulled him into his arms, again, this time seeking comfort rather than affection.

“No. Probably not. _Maybe_. No.”

Peter hugged him, close. “The world _needs_ Ironman, Tony…” he reminded him. And then decided to lighten the mood – or _change_ it, anyway – and he smiled. “Right now, though, I need _Tony Stark_.”

Tony hugged him close for a long moment, and then pressed a kiss against his ear.

“You’ve got me. Let’s eat, though.”

He pushed Peter away, steering the boy toward the table, and followed with the kettle of stew, which he ladled into the two bowls before bringing over the rolls. Then, while Peter sat down at one of the chairs, the billionaire set two wineglasses onto the table and filled both with a better than average – but nothing close to the best – red wine.

“I’m not old enough for that,” Peter told him.

“I know. But I told you I was going to wine and dine you,” Tony reminded him. “I’m not going to _milk_ and dine you. Just drink it, okay? You’re not going to get drunk with one glass – not if you eat to give it a base – and I want you relaxed.”

Not drunk, but feeling a little mellow. He was going to rock Peter’s world and didn’t want him tense.

“I’m already relaxed.”

Tony leaned over and kissed his ear, sliding his hand under the shirt Peter was wearing. Then he took the glass, drank down all but the last swallow.

“Drink it and I’ll give you a blowjob before you leave the table.”

The boy reached for the glass without another word.

><><><>><<><> 

They didn’t take too long to eat, really. It wasn't a gourmet meal, after all, and they were both hungry, despite the lack of activity that day. Besides, Peter was anticipating. Not just his first _blowjob_, ever, but also his first everything else.

He didn’t know if the wine made him any more relaxed, but he doubted it. He was sporting a fairly impressive hard on by the time Tony finished the last of his stew and Peter had downed the last roll, after all. Tony smiled at him, amused, as if he knew exactly what was going on, even though with the table blocking his view there wasn't any way he could see anything. The older man moved on the chair he was sitting on, pulling it out and turning a little, parting his legs.

“Come here, honey,” he told Peter, gesturing between his knees.

Peter got to his feet and walked over, moving to stand in front of Tony, shivering with excitement and anticipation. Tony looked up at him, and then undid the drawstring on Peter’s lounge pants, allowing them to simply drop to the floor, freeing Peter’s eager cock.

He stroked him, watching Peter’s reaction and smiling when the younger man had to put his hands on Tony’s shoulders to steady himself.

“That feels good, Tony,” he murmured, watching; fascinated.

“It’s _supposed_ to.”

Tony guided Peter’s cock to his mouth and began to lick the shaft, and then the head, enjoying the flavor of the boy and the sounds he was already starting to make. He decided not to prolong the first time. It’d take the edge off for Peter and allow him to enjoy the slower pace that Tony wanted to set, later.

“Tony…” Peter gasped, and the billionaire redoubled his efforts, slurping eagerly on Peter’s cock, his tongue sliding easily along Peter’s shaft, ending on the head, curling around it, and then flicking on the underside, which made the boy moan, softly. “Oh, my god… yes…”

Tony cupped Peter’s testicles, making a milking motion with them that was the younger man’s undoing. He didn’t even have a chance to warn Tony before his hips snapped forward, jerking, and it felt as his cock was suddenly exploding, sending pleasure surging along the length and radiating through the rest of his body.

His hands went to back to Tony’s shoulder’s as his knees went weak and the world around him faded white for just a moment, and he felt the older man’s hands supporting him but holding him in place until he emptied himself utterly.

Even while he shivered in his release, Tony wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly and resting his cheek against Peter’s stomach for a moment.

“You enjoyed it?”

Peter actually laughed at that, and he threaded his fingers, lightly, through Tony’s dark hair, noticing a few gray ones, and admiring them.

“You could definitely say that, yes.”

“Ready for more?”

“I could be talked into something else,” he assured him. “We’re not doing dishes, first, are we?”

“No, honey.” Tony got to his feet, but kept hold of Peter, pulling the boy close and letting him feel the swelling of his own eager cock. “The dishes can wait – and I can’t.”

Peter smiled, feeling a little shy, a little nervous and _very_ excited as Tony took hold of his hand and led him through the living room and into the bedroom. It wasn't fancy; there was a bed, and a dresser and a window with a curtain, but all that Peter was interested in, just then, was the bed – and apparently Tony was in a similar mind frame, because he immediately pushed Peter down onto it, positioning the boy so that he was sitting on the edge.

“Can I undress you?” Peter asked.

Tony smiled, pleased – and feeling his own excitement.

“As long as you don’t take too long.”

Peter stood up long enough to pull Tony’s shirt off and then sat back down on the bed when he reached for Tony’s pants, pulling them down without ceremony and leaning forward to try and take Tony’s bobbing cock into his mouth. He missed, but Tony chuckled, and his hand came to the back of Peter’s head, holding him still while using the other to guide the head of his cock to nudge against Peter’s lips.

The boy didn’t hesitate. He didn’t have any experience, true, but he was definitely ready to try and get Tony off, like Tony had him.

The older man eased himself into the boy’s mouth, now both hands going to Peter’s head and holding him in place while he fucked his mouth, carefully, forcing himself to remember that Peter didn’t have as much experience as other lovers that he’d had.

“You look so pretty sucking my cock,” he crooned, smiling when the compliment made the boy double his efforts. “You’re getting me so hard, honey. Hard enough that I’ll be ready to make love to you, soon.”

Peter moaned around Tony’s cock, gagging himself as he tried to take more into his mouth, but not pulling back until Tony moved away, his cock sliding out of Peter’s mouth with a wet, slurping sound. The boy looked up at him, questioningly, and Tony leaned down and kissed him, pressing him backward on the bed as he did, and positioning himself between Peter’s legs, nudging his legs open, and rutting against Peter’s belly while he deepened the kiss, his hands roaming Peter’s body.

><><><>><>< 

As evenings went, it was the best either of them had had in a long time – maybe _ever_ as far as Peter was concerned.

Tony was all over him, in a very good way, and showed the boy what he’d meant when he’d told Peter how exciting it could be to make love to another man. Peter found that Tony’s mouth, lips and tongue could be just as exciting as his hands and fingers, and his body was brought to exquisite heights of pleasure over and over as Tony played him like a finely tuned instrument.

When Peter was quivering, satiated and reduced to soft, mewling noises, Tony lubed them both thoroughly and brought Peter’s knees to his chest, opening him to his tender invasion. Peter’s body resisted, but the boy welcomed him with a strangled cry of pleasure as he was claimed, and Tony held still for a long moment, allowing Peter to get used to the feel of having him inside him, before he finally started moving on him.

His easy thrusts were assertive, loving and demanding all in one and left no doubt in Peter’s mind that being the bottom his first time had absolutely been the right choice. He moaned as the older man’s thrusts became more frantic, now, hips ramming his cock deeper, still, until Tony grunted, fingers clutching Peter’s body as he emptied into him in sharp, jerky spurts.

“Jesus…” Peter murmured, pinned under Tony’s heaving body, his arms coming around him to hold him close. “That was _so good_.”

Tony chuckled at the wonder in Peter’s voice – and the satisfaction.

“Yeah.” He wasn't in any hurry to move, and Peter didn’t seem to be suffering for having him where he was, so he buried his face between the boy’s neck and shoulder and enjoyed the embrace Peter had on him – both inside and out. “It was.”

Peter’s hand idly caressed Tony’s back, listening to their heartbeats slowing as both of them caught their breath, and felt the lassitude that followed. Something that he hadn’t really believed was a thing, no matter how many times that he’d read about it.

“Am I hurting you?” Tony asked, and the boy felt him kiss his neck.

“No. You feel good, right where you are.”

Which made the billionaire smile, hitch his hips a couple more time and slide out of him before rolling off and gathering Peter into his arms.

“I can hold you like this, and not have to worry about smothering you.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” Peter assured him. He stretched as much as Tony’s embrace would allow, feeling the aftermath of their lovemaking in the muscles of his thighs, and lower back, mostly. And, of course, his still aching and drenched rear. “Thank you…”

Tony brushed a kiss against his temple.

“You’re welcome. We’ll rest a while and then I’ll show you my encore moves.”

Peter shivered, just a little, and closed his eyes, feeling Tony bringing the blankets over the two of them and pressing even closer.

“Will you be annoyed if I fall asleep?” Peter asked him, suddenly exhausted.

“I _expect_ you to,” the older man assured him. “If I do my job right, you’ll be spending a lot of time the next few days sleeping in my arms.” Peter shivered, again, and Tony crooned into his ear. “Go to sleep, honey.”

And he did.

And then _Tony_ did, too.


	11. 11

“There’s something to be said for snow…” Peter said, a few days later.

Tony nodded his agreement, pressed up against the boy, his arms around him from behind as the two of them looked out the window. The snow had stopped falling earlier that afternoon – _finally_ – but it was as deep as the porch was high, so they were both very much aware that they weren’t going to be getting themselves dug out anytime soon.

“You aren’t tired of me, yet?” he asked, nuzzling Peter’s jaw, one arm holding him, still, but the other sliding down, into the front of the lounge pants the boy was wearing.

“You’re doing a good job of keeping me entertained.”

Which was an understatement.

With nothing to do and no one looking for either of them, just then, Tony had Peter all to himself, and found the boy a willing pupil when it came to learning how best to enjoy the other – and take enjoyment and pleasure from him.

“Ever the perfectionist,” the billionaire said, nibbling on Peter’s ear. “Now that it’s not snowing, how long do you think it’ll be before they start plowing and get to us?”

Tony didn’t know how these things worked, after all; he was a city guy, and rural New York was a mystery to him – as was lake effect snow, obviously. Peter had lived with this for a couple of years, and was the expert.

“They’re pretty efficient,” the young man told him, tilting his head sideways, silently asking Tony to continue what he was doing. “And they know that we’re here – because I told my boss so he wouldn’t worry. Another day or so, most likely. We’ll be the last one on their priority list, even though I’m cute and young and the boss’s wife has pretty much adopted me as her own.”

“You _are_ cute.”

Peter smiled.

“I’m going to miss having you all to myself, like this.”

“So am I, honey,” Tony assured him, his hold just a little tighter, now. “It’s been fun, though.”

“Yeah.”

How was he ever going to go back to being alone, again? Five days of being the center of someone else’s world had certainly been addicting. He didn’t know how much longer Tony was going to hold out on not being Ironman, but it wasn't going to be all that long, he was sure, and Peter knew instinctively that the older man had probably ruined him for anyone else, now.

Everyone would pale compared to Tony Stark, after all.

As if he could sense some of Peter’s inner turmoil, Tony turned Peter’s head so he could claim his lips in a tender kiss.

“Come to bed with me, Peter,” he crooned. “I want to be inside you.”

The boy nodded, turning in his arms and allowing Tony to guide him back to the bed, and then back into his arms.

><><><><>< 

Even with Peter wrapped firmly in his arms and tucked against his naked body, Tony’s sleep was restless. Or maybe because he had Peter in his arms. The older man was self-aware enough to know that he was falling for Peter, or at least falling for the idea of having someone so willing to be the center of his world – without wanting anything from him as a billionaire _or_ as Ironman. Peter was so good. So amazing. Tony knew the boy was everything that he wasn't, and that he could fill those spaces inside him that were so empty and cold all the time.

But he couldn’t. He was _eighteen_, for Christ’s sake, and Tony couldn’t offer him anything, really. What could a kid like Peter, with all the vitality that his youth gave him, possibly want from an old washed up, jaded, egotistical asshole? Money was the obvious answer, but Peter didn’t _need_ money. He had money and he was comfortable. The reflected fame of being friends (and _more_?) with someone as well-known as Tony Stark? No. If Peter wanted to be seen and heard, he wouldn’t have gone to ground hiding in a town that literally had the same population as the apartment building Tony lived in in the city.

He didn’t have anything to offer Peter but a lot of heartache and the same shit that he handed out to all the people who knew him and had to put up with him day to day. Not to mention the dangers that would come with being with him – presuming the boy even _wanted_ to, which he was too smart to, Tony was sure.

Someone could hurt Peter to get to him. Someone might grab him. Might injure him, or cripple him or do any number of awful things to him, just to hurt Tony – and it _would_. Peter shouldn’t be anywhere near him, really, and was probably better off without Tony in his life.

But Tony wasn't better off without him.

Terrible dreams plagued him; Peter being hurt. Peter crying. Peter bleeding and broken, like the man that had died in the explosion that Tony had caused. The others telling him that it was his fault.

“No…”

The panic attack was full blown before he was awake enough to be aware, but even as he moved to get himself out of bed, and then maybe out in the open air where he might be able to find Peter and save him, an arm came around him.

“Shhh… I’m here…”

He struggled, incoherent and panicked, fighting the grasp that was impossibly strong.

“I need to find him…” Tony muttered, truly fighting to get free, and awake, now, although the panic had him as tightly as those arms did. “Peter.”

The boy brought his other arm around Tony, then, and the billionaire wasn't able to move. His arms were pinned to his sides, and Peter was holding him. Was crooning to him; words of love and assurance and comfort, but never once allowing Tony to so much as move, despite him struggling to free himself.

“I’m _here_,” Peter told him. “You’re fine. Stay still and take deep breaths.”

Eventually Tony did as he was told, and he took that first, so important deep breath. And then another. And _another_, as he was instructed. He fell back to sleep, uneasy, worn from the nightmare and the ensuing panic attack, but never once allowed to do more than struggle, weakly, in the iron grasp of the scrawny boy.

It didn’t seem right, to him, but he was too tired, just then, to understand what was wrong with it.

><><><><><><><> 

The sun was shining brightly – even through the curtains on the bedroom window – when he opened his eyes, next. Tony groaned, and stretched, reaching for Peter, automatically, and turning when he realized that the space beside him was empty – and had been for some time, since the spot was cold. He rolled over, realizing that all of the blankets had been tucked around him, warmly, and another pillow had been put behind him, just to give him that much more support.

Blinking back his sleepiness, and remembering the panic attack and nightmare from the night before, Tony heaved himself out of the bed, pulled on pajama bottoms, and went to go find Peter and make sure that he was alright.

He found him in the kitchen, the air smelling deliciously of coffee, and the boy making toast with the last of their bread. Peter smiled at him.

“Good morning.”

“Hey.” Tony went over and sat at the table, rubbing his face, tiredly. “You okay?”

Peter nodded, and brought him a cup of coffee, setting it in front of him, and running a hand along Tony’s shoulder.

“I’m fine. You’re the one that had the nightmare,” he reminded him. “Are _you_?”

“Yeah…” he frowned, taking a sip of the coffee, appreciatively. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“Nope. I’m okay, Tony. _Really_.”

The billionaire then remembered being held. Tightly.

“You wouldn’t let me go.”

Peter nodded.

“That’s what my aunt and uncle used to do for me when I had panic attacks,” he said. “Hold me tight, make sure I couldn’t move and hurt myself, and then remind me to breathe. I hope you don’t mind…? I didn’t hurt _you_, did I?”

“No. But…” he looked down at himself. Solid, muscular and thick. Then he looked at Peter, who was wearing one of Tony’s oversized thermal tops, but was clearly a lot scrawnier, didn’t weigh anywhere close to what he did and had thin arms. The hand that was still on his shoulder was almost delicate-looking. Not the hand that could have held him in place in the middle of a panic attack. “I don’t understand how you kept me in bed.”

Peter flushed, clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m stronger than I look,” he said, uncertainly.

“Obviously. But not _that_ much stronger.” He was surprised to feel Peter tremble, and he frowned. “What is it, honey?”

“Nothing.”

The blatant lie made Tony realize that whatever it was, it almost certainly had something to do with the who terrified of Tony Stark thing – although Tony hadn’t seen any indication of any of that in the many days that he and Peter had been alone in the cabin.

At least not after their first day.

“Peter…” he felt a sting of annoyance and a lot of hurt. “You don’t trust me?”

“I _do_.”

“Then _tell_ me.”

“I…” the boy paled, and Tony pulled him down into his lap, worried for a moment that he might pass out, or something. He was trembling, even harder, now. “I _can’t_.”

“Of _course_ you can,” Tony said, tucking Peter’s head under his chin. “Did someone hurt you? Did I do something to hurt you – before we met, I mean? Without realizing it.”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something thoughtlessly, with no concern for consequences. Maybe he’d killed a family member? Although his preliminary research into the boy’s history hadn’t shown him anything to make him think they had any kind of connection until they met.

“No. But you _will_…” Peter told him, pressing against him. “If you knew…”

“If I knew what, Peter?” Tony asked, gently. “I won’t hurt you. You must know that by now. Please tell me why you’re so afraid.”

Peter was shaking so hard by then that Tony had to assume the only thing that was keeping him from falling out of his lap was his hold on him.

“I… I can do things,” came a whispered reply. “And I’m strong. _Really_ strong.”

“What things?”

“I can stick to things. And if I get hurt, I heal, quickly. And I… and sometimes I _should_ get hurt, but I don’t.”

“I don’t understand, Peter…” Tony told him. Of course he didn’t; the boy wasn't making any sense. “Let’s start at the top. You said you stick to things? What do you mean?”

There wasn't an answer, immediately; Peter just held him for a long minute. So long that Tony was almost ready to repeat the question when Peter suddenly moved, sliding off his lap and walking over to the living room wall. He looked back at Tony and before the older man realized what he intended to do, Peter jumped, straight up.

And didn’t come down.

Tony stared as the boy stuck, somehow, first to the wall, and then scrambled over to the ceiling, until he was standing upside down, hanging from the ceiling, with only his feet contacting with the plaster, and then he got to his feet, shocked.

“What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all! Affirmation isn't usually something I need, but this time I did, so I appreciate it.


	12. 12

Peter dropped to the floor, turning at the last moment to land on his feet. He was pale, and looked terrified, and Tony knew that _he_ was pale, as well.

“How did you do that?” the billionaire asked.

“I just _can_,” Peter told him. “I don’t know, exactly. I think… well, _we_ think… that it happened when-“

_“We?”_

“My aunt and uncle and me.” He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “I was fourteen, and I was going to a science prep school, and there was a field trip to a place doing R&D. I _think_ it was a spider that bit me, but I’m not-“

“Wait,” Tony interrupted him. “_What_?”

“I got bit. And then I got pretty sick for a day or two, and then I was better, and suddenly I could walk up walls, and I got hit by a school bus and didn’t even get hurt – just some bruises – and I lifted a car from a-“

“You lifted a _car_?”

Peter nodded, still looking scared.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“But, you can do _amazing_ things…” Tony said, reaching for, and taking, Peter’s hand. “Why aren’t you telling the world? They could figure out how you do it, and they could-“

Peter jerked his hand away, feeling a surge of terror go through him as Tony voiced the thing that had him more afraid than anything. Exactly what his uncle had warned him would happen.

“I…” his stomach heaved before he could say anything, and he bolted for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he threw up.

Tony, of course, followed, crouching down next to where he clung miserably to the bowl, heaving until there wasn't anything left in his stomach to throw up. Tony’s hand supported his head, brushing his bangs back and crooning reassurances to him.

“Peter, honey,” Tony murmured. “It’s alright.”

“No…” his eyes welled with frightened tears. “I don’t want to be a science experiment, Tony. Please… _please_…”

_Ah_. No wonder he was so afraid.

Tony made a soft noise and pulled Peter to his feet, hugging him close.

“You’re afraid people will want to experiment on you?”

“Yes,” Peter sniffed into Tony’s bare chest. “To see why I can do what I can do.”

“No one would do that.”

“_You_ just said-“

“Before I knew you were _terrified_ of the idea,” he interrupted. “Now I _know_. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. Or experiment on you.”

“I can’t take that chance.”

“So, _that’s_ why you live out here?” Tony asked. “To _hide_?”

“Yes.”

“And why you’re – why you _were_ so afraid of me? Because you think I would want to see what makes you tick?”

“Yes.”

“Well… I admit it’s the most interesting thing that I’ve seen in a long time,” he told the boy. “There’s no doubt that the others would certainly agree.” He walked Peter to the bathroom sink and turned on the hot water with the hand that wasn't holding him, wetting a washcloth, and wringing it out before using it to wipe Peter’s face. “You could be a _superhero_, honey, with skills like that. An _Avenger_, even.”

Peter shook his head.

“Please don’t tell them.”

“But, Peter-“

“_Please_, Tony? Please?”

The tears were still falling; hot and fast and terrified. Rather than torment his young lover with further questioning or trying to convince him of something that he was clearly so afraid of, he simply nodded, wiping away the tears, once more.

“I won’t tell anyone, honey. Shhh.”

><><><><>< 

It was a long time before Tony was able to get Peter calmed down.

Focusing on the boy’s fear did a great job of distracting him from just how incredible Peter was – and enabling him to hide that from him, since he assumed (correctly) that Peter didn’t want to be the focus of any kind of attention like that. He managed to clean him up – including brushing his teeth, and another washcloth to wipe his tears – and then draw him out of the bathroom and onto the sofa, where Tony cuddled with him, rocking him, gently until he wasn't shaking any more.

“You really think the Avengers would experiment on you?” Tony asked, softly, kissing Peter’s ear to distract him from how scary the question was to the boy.

“If not them, someone else.”

“They wouldn’t do something like that. _I_ wouldn’t do something like that. You _know_ that, right? That I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“I know it _now_,” Peter said, trembling a little, once more. “But I didn’t know you when I was fifteen. Ben didn’t trust the government. He said we needed to hide what I could do, because they’d want to weaponize my abilities, that they would try to figure me out – and make other people be able to do it.”

“And when he and your aunt died?”

“I had to hide,” Peter told him. “If I stayed in Queens, I would have let something slip, and someone would have figured it out.”

“You don’t know that, honey.”

“I slipped with you, and you figured out something was off.”

Good point.

“You can’t hide forever, Peter.”

“I’m hoping that it goes away.”

“If it hasn’t by now, it probably _won’t_. You’re smart enough to know that.”

“Yeah.” They were silent for a long time, sitting on the sofa and simply holding each other. Peter finally shifted, sliding his hand down between them. “Will you love me, Tony?” he asked. “Please?”

Fairly certain that Peter wanted the distraction much more than he really was horny, Tony was more than willing to allow the change of subject from one that was so upsetting to Peter to one that was far more enjoyable.

If he was a little distracted as he slowly and thoroughly worked the boy to the heights of arousal with his experienced hands and mouth, Peter didn’t notice, and there was nothing lacking in the ardent motions when he bent Peter over and slid himself into him, reminding him with words and with touch that Tony thought he was amazing long before he knew that Peter could walk on the ceiling. He finished with a grunt of pleasure and held Peter flush against him as he emptied into him, before pulling out and then gathering him into his arms.

The boy fell asleep, then, satiated and exhausted from the physical attentions and the release of his biggest secret. Tony was feeling just as euphoric, of course, but he didn’t doze off, this time. Instead, he held Peter tucked against his chest and under his chin, and wondered what the others would say if they knew what his young lover could do.


	13. 13

It was another three days before they were ‘rescued’ – although neither was in any hurry to end their snowed in privacy. They spent the time loving each other, or playing boardgames or simply talking - although the subject of what Peter could do only came up once more, and the boy was so shaken, after, that Tony was fairly careful to steer any conversation away from it when it would start that direction.

Peter did show his strength off a bit when he bundled up in some outwear they found in the closet and he took a shovel and cleared not only the snow on the porch, but a path to the driveway where Tony’s truck was parked – and then a path to the large stack of neatly piled wood, so they could replenish their dwindling supply.

He did it all in an hour, and wasn't even breathing hard when he started moving the chopped logs from the pile over to the porch.

“That's _incredible_,” Tony told him.

He’d been standing on the porch watching, but Peter had told him not to bother helping. He didn’t need the assistance.

Peter had smiled, shyly, but didn’t say anything, and his phone rang before Tony could say anything else. A short conversation later, the boy ended the call and looked at him, wryly.

“That was my boss – who is _also_ the head of the local dept of transportation – letting me know that they will be clearing your road tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Tony hesitated. “You’ll still come visit me, though, right? I mean… well, _you_ know what I mean…”

“You want me to?”

The billionaire rolled his eyes and had started pulling the snow clothing off the boy, slowly.

“I need you to.”

“Show me how much.”

So he did, and they had spent their last evening snowed in naked in front of the fire with Tony going all out to give Peter every reason to want to return to his side – and his bed – even after the boy was free of the confines of the cabin.

><><>><><>< 

“Were you nervous?”

“Nah. We never lost power, and the woodpile was well-stocked.”

“Good thing Mr. Edwards had just bought a lot of provisions,” Peter’s boss said, cheerfully.

It took Peter a moment to remember that Tony was incognito under a different name – which he now knew was the older man’s middle name. The road had been cleared, and the snow was starting to melt a little – although most of it would be there until spring thaw, now.

Peter had been free of the cabin for almost a week, but he’d been over there three nights, since – in between catching up on his missed schoolwork and working at the store.

“Yeah. He’s a good cook, too.”

The old grocer shook his head.

“Still, stuck in a cabin with a stranger for over a week. Must have been uncomfortable.”

Peter shrugged.

“It wasn't too bad.”

They were interrupted by the librarian, who had (of course) been listening in. It was a small town, after all, and everyone knew what everyone else was doing.

“He returned his library books, today,” she reported. “Said that he’d been glad to have them.” The older woman smiled warmly at Peter. “You must have been climbing the walls, with nothing to do but read and play dominos.”

The boy simply nodded, and wisely refrained from telling her what he and Tony had done to keep themselves occupied.

><><><><>>>< 

_”We have a serious problem.”_

He was so tempted to say that _he_ didn’t have any problems at all, but Steve looked really concerned. And it took a bit to rattle him.

“What’s going on?”

_“Your AI has gone crazy.”_

“At the tower?”

_“I don’t know about there, but something is definitely glitched, here, at the compound. She set up a live fire drill a couple of hours ago that almost killed Sam and Clint as they were flying in for a landing.”_

“What? She isn’t programmed for that.”

_“I hope not. But she did. Suggestions?”_

“Yeah. Pull her offline.”

_“And then what?” Steve asked. “Not to mention how do I do that?”_

Tony scowled.

“You don’t. You don’t have access to her protocols.”

Of course he didn’t. Tony didn’t trust his AI with anyone.

_“What do we do, then?”_

“I’ll shut her down remotely, and then I’ll come check her systems out.”

_“Today?”_

The billionaire shook his head.

“I have some arrangements to make, first. I’ll be on the road tomorrow, bright and early.”

_“We’ll leave the light on for you. Thanks.”_

Tony ended the call and then sighed, and sat down, staring broodingly at the fire.

He wasn't ready to leave Peter. He wondered if he could talk him into coming with him – just for a few days – and knew even as he considered it that it would take a lot more than Ironman to get Peter Parker anywhere near the Avengers, much less their facility.

The boy trusted _him_, now, but he was still very much afraid of the others – and Tony understood why, now – even though he knew it was an unnecessary fear. Peter didn’t know it, though, and it was so ingrained in him, now, that it wasn't going to go away any time soon.

><><><><><> 

“You could come with me.”

Peter smiled, sadly, and shook his head.

“No. You know I’d have a meltdown the closer I got to them. It’s okay, Tony. _Really_.”

He’d known that the man was going to go back to the city and to the Avengers, and he thought that _Tony_ had known it, as well. Being a superhero and being in the limelight like Tony Stark was almost certainly addictive. Not that Peter knew, of course, but he could understand, completely.

“_Please_, Peter?” Tony asked, softly, sliding his hands under the back of the boy’s shirt. “Come spend the weekend. You can leave any time – I’ll have a private jet take you.”

“I’m not brave enough to do that, Tony,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

It had been his last hope, really, and he’d known that Peter was going to say no even before he’d asked. The young man’s eyes were so expressive that Tony had had no problem reading them and the denial before Peter had even said a word.

“It’s okay, honey…” Tony pulled Peter into his arms.

“I had a good time,” Peter told him. “Thank you for everything.”

Now Tony chuckled. _He_ had had just as much fun.

“Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m good.”

The billionaire nodded, cupping Peter’s cheeks in his palms.

“You’re _better_ than good, honey. You have my number. I expect you to use it if anything comes up. Or if you just get lonely some night and need to talk.”

“Thanks.”

Peter kissed him, once more, and then forced himself to step back, watching as Tony got behind the wheel of the truck. Despite the cold, he rolled down the window.

“Want me to drive you to town?”

“No. I’ll walk. Thanks.”

Besides, if he got into the truck, he might not want to get out until they reached the city. Instead, he forced a smile, and the engine started, Tony gave him another almost hungry look, and then drove away.

><><><>><><> 

“You’ve been fairly quiet, lately.”

Tony shrugged, pulled from his brooding by Pepper’s comment. He’d been staring out the window in his office, watching as a light snowfall was dusting the city outside and below him.

“You should be happy, right?” he asked. “No PR nightmares in two weeks.”

“Even _longer_, since you were snowed in before that and not causing me any trouble while you were,” She agreed. “You fixed your AI?”

“Yes. It was a misunderstanding – and a missing decimal. She’s fine – here _and_ at the compound.”

Pepper nodded, and then hesitated, uncertainly. She didn’t like seeing him look so disconsolate.

“Are you _alright_?”

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

“I’m _fine_. Thank you.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she left him alone, luckily, and he turned his attention back to the falling snow, wondering what Peter was doing, and how he was. If the boy was in the city, it’d be a snap to watch him; with FRIDAY he had access to every surveillance camera around, and could track movements of transit passes, LYFT or UBER and hundreds of other things. Peter wasn't that easy, though, because he was in a town that literally had one camera in the local bank and another in the post office.

Which he probably knew – and had done on purpose. Brilliant even at sixteen. Tony smiled.

“FRIDAY? Track Peter’s banking activity,” Tony requested. “What’s he up to?”

_“He closed the rental agreement on his current location, and the bank account. Also, there isn’t any activity his school account.”_

“What? He moved?”

_“Looks that way. And has put his classes on hold.”_

“Where?”

_“I don’t see any activity at this time.”_

Tony was turned away from the window, now, even though he didn’t have any actual person to look at.

“He’s gone to ground, again,” he murmured, feeling an ache of sorrow and loneliness. The boy wanted to hide, and Tony knew that he should let him, but he couldn’t. He wanted to make sure that he was alright. That he was eating. And was safe. And that he could find him if Peter needed him. “Watch for any indication, okay? Let me know when you’ve located him – be aware of possible aliases.”

_“Will do.”_

><><><><><>< 

The new town was much smaller than the last – and even more out of the way.

With a population of less than three hundred people, and right on the Canadian border, it was quiet and more rural than anything. There was a lot of snow on the ground, and he’d gotten lucky when he’d come to the town, right on the heels of three youngsters leaving to try their fortunes in the big city. That had left an open room at a boarding house – and a job as a loader at the sawmill – which Peter soon learned was the primary employer in the town.

He got rid of his old phone, and picked up a burner phone, knowing that Tony was probably going to be looking for him, but forcing himself to make a clean break. For himself, and for Tony – who definitely had better prospects than a cowardly freak. He missed doing the online classes, but that would have been easy to track, so he was putting that on hold, too. For a while, anyway.

His young face and open expression had every mother in the little town of Coopersville wanting to adopt him and make sure he was eating right but Peter held himself back, unwilling to make any real connections. _Always_ hanging back, as he’d been doing everywhere that he’d gone since he’d turned sixteen.

There were four other people living at the boarding house that he had found his room in. The place was reasonably priced, and included all meals as well as his room. Affordable enough that he didn’t even need to dip into his bank account and just relied on the wages he made at the sawmill. The others were all men, and all older than him. None interested him the same way that Tony had (not surprisingly) so he accepted the occasional evening of checkers or cards, but he didn’t spend much time in _their_ company, either.

Instead, he threw himself into reading – even though it was all done online, since Coopersville didn’t have a library – and kept his head down, as he always did, and if he was alone at night, holding onto a pillow instead of being in warm, loving arms, well, at least he was safe.

Just lonelier than ever.

Peter worked the late shift at the mill. Trucks would come in all evening and Peter loaded them, carefully, smiling politely at the lame jokes that most of the drivers told, and keeping to himself with his few coworkers. The advantage to being enhanced like he was, was that he loaded faster than the others, more than willing to take up the slack and do more than his share of the work to allow them a little less stress. By the end of the day, despite his long shift and back-breaking work, he was rarely tired.

He walked back to the boarding house each night, ignoring the one tavern and its warm, inviting light and loud music (almost always country) and saying goodbye to those who walked with him as they all inevitably veered off to go to the bar. He wasn't old enough to drink, anyway, and while he would love to have companions and friends, Peter knew better.

Maybe someday.

“But not today,” he told himself, turning down the final street that led home.

As he walked by the now dark general store, he suddenly felt a tingle that made him stop. A warning that something wasn't as it should be. The street was dark, because the streetlight on the corner worked sometimes, at best, but he didn’t have any trouble seeing in almost any light, and when the two figures stopped out from behind the building, clearly blocking his path, Peter froze, uncertainly.

“Peter Parker…?”

The one who spoke was a man, the other definitely a woman – despite being dressed in bulky winter clothing, there was no doubt about those hips.

He took a step back, wondering who they were, and what they wanted. They weren’t dressed like townspeople; and they were too well-kept to be transients.

Besides, they knew him by name – which meant that they were looking for him, specifically. Suddenly the streetlight above them flickered, and came on, once more, and now Peter was frozen in fear, rather than uncertainty.

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff were obviously not looking for wooden fencing.


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short, sorry

His fear must have been clear, because Romanoff raised a hand, obviously trying to reassure.

“It’s _okay_.”

He shook his head, eyes darting every direction, automatically looking for the rest of the people who were there to capture him – or looking for an _escape route_. It was definitely _not_ okay.

“Relax, Peter,” Steve said, also trying to calm the boy, especially since neither of them had done anything to make him nervous. “We’re just here to talk to you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“No,” Romanoff agreed. “We know.”

They were both tense watching him, and the only thing keeping Peter in place was the paralyzing fear that had hold of him. It was just like Ben had warned him. They’d come for him. Tony must have told them about his abilities, and they had found him, despite how much care that he’d taken to vanish.

“We just want to _talk_ to you,” Steve repeated.

“About what?”

As if he didn’t know.

“_Tony_,” Natasha said, surprising him. “He misses you.”

“Wh-what?”

“Tony,” she repeated, saying it slowly, as if speaking to a spooked puppy – which was probably an apt comparison. “_Stark_.”

“Tony sent you?”

It had to be a trick. Maybe they knew about him and Tony and were using his relationship that he had had with the billionaire to try and get him off his guard – and it was working.

“No. He doesn’t know we’re here,” Steve admitted. “But we had to come talk to you. He’s-“

“How do you know about me?”

Romanoff smiled, slightly, still holding her hand up toward him.

“_Peter_ this and _Peter_ that…”

“You’re all he talks about,” Rogers agreed. “But he misses you, and he’s being a bit unbearable to-“

“Moody and irritable,” Romanoff said. “Bit of a _dick_, really,” she added, making Steve frown.

“Language.”

“I _know_.”

“I don’t understand…”

Obviously.

“Because we’re not explaining it very well,” Romanoff apologized. “Can we talk? Without you running from us?”

“It’s too cold to chase you,” Steve added.

“And we wouldn’t, anyway,” Natasha added, quickly. “Like I said, we’re just here to talk to you. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“What do you want?”

He didn’t exactly relax, but he wasn't looking for an escape route, just yet.

“We thought you could come back with us,” Steve said. “Maybe surprise Tony and make him stop worrying about you.”

“He’s worried about me?”

“You apparently vanished,” Romanoff said. She looked around. “I can see how that could happen, out here.”

“I can’t go with you,” Peter told them. “Tell him that I’m fine.”

He’d have to find someplace else, now. Someplace more desolate – even though if he kept downsizing, he was going to end up hibernating with a grizzly somewhere.

“_Are_ you?” Natasha asked, pointedly. “Because I’m not going to lie to him.”

“Oh. I mean, yeah. I’m okay.”

“That isn’t the same as fine,” Steve pointed out, making the mistake of taking a step toward the boy, worried because he really looked spooked and Steve wasn't used to causing that reaction in anyone.

Natasha, yes. _Captain America_? Not so much.

“I’m…” Peter wasn't much for lying, either, but the fear was trying to gain the upper hand, now, and he took a step back, well aware that a panic attack was in the offing. “Please… I don’t want to go.”

“What did he _do_ to you?” Natasha asked, wondering at the unmistakable fear she could read in his expression and stance and could hear in his voice.

“Nothing,” Peter told her, truthfully. “He’s amazing.”

“Then it must be _us_ that you’re afraid of,” she said, frowning and confused. “What did _we_ do to you?”

“Nothing. I’m good. I should go…”

He took another step backward, and when neither made a move to stop him, he turned on his heel and ran. Distracted by his turmoil, he didn’t see or hear the logging truck that had turned the corner, coming from having just been unloaded at the mill. The driver was in a hurry to get back home; his day was almost done, too, and he was going well over the unposted (but informally recognized) speed limit and was distracted as well by his cell phone.

Natasha and Steve both saw it, and both shouted a warning but were too far away to do more than watch as Peter ran out in front of the truck, and was hit before the driver even realized what happened. The boy was flung violently to the side, and lay still.


	15. 15

A dull throbbing pain woke Peter. He might have been able to ignore it and keep sleeping, except it was accompanied by a soft, incessant beeping, and the two combined to keep him from relaxing enough to go back to sleep. That and an inner surety that something just wasn't right.

He opened his eyes, and found that he was in a room.

A small white room. Clearly some kind of _medical_ room. He looked around, confused, and the pain in his head that had woke him went from dull throbbing to sharp and steady, like nothing that he’d ever felt before. Peter brought his hand up to rub it and wasn't able to. His hand stopped with a soft metallic clink. He lifted his aching head, and saw that both of his hands were restrained. Leather manacles, covered in some kind of sheep’s wool to protect his skin, and firmly holding each wrist to the railing of the hospital bed that he was in.

Fear surged through him as the nightmare that he was most terrified of was coming to life right in front of him.

They had him. They had done something to get him knocked out – a tranquilizer maybe? – and now he was in some kind of science lab, bolted to a table and laid out for them to do God only knew what to him. Ben had warned him, and he’d still been foolish enough to manage to be captured.

He heard a whimper and realized that it had come from his own throat, but before he could do anything, or get his frozen mind to focus on what he needed to do to escape, the door opened, and three people walked in. Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers and a strange man in a white lab coat. He was carrying something in his hand, and all three looked at Peter.

“Good,” the stranger said, smiling – and in his sudden, unreasoning, panic, the expression looked sinister to Peter. “We’ll be able to get a better idea of what’s going on inside your head, now.”

Peter didn’t wait to hear the rest. Practically gibbering with fear, he jerked his right hand, sharply, snapping the metal chain on the restraint and freeing his wrist from the rail. The left was even easier; another quick motion with only a slight, sharp pain, and he was loose.

“Peter!”

He bolted from the bed, tripping over the rail, the medical equipment that he hadn’t even realized he was attached to, and the bedding. Even as he stumbled, Steve and Natasha both reached out to grab him, but he dodged them, easily, ignoring the fact that his entire body was aching, and ran out the door and into an equally stark, white, corridor.

Overcome with the panic that had him well and truly caught, Peter chose a direction at random and ran, hearing an alarm go up behind him.

><><>><><><>> 

_“Incoming call from Steve Rogers.”_

Tony rubbed his face, looking from the display that he hadn’t really been studying, anyway, and looked at his watch. It was the middle of the night and he knew better than anyone that people never called to socialize at 3am.

“Put him through. Steve. What’s up?”

_“Tony… we have a situation.”_

The other man’s voice had an odd note to it that made Tony frown, but he was already getting to his feet. Clearly the Avengers were being assembled, and he was almost relieved. He’d been so worried about Peter, lately, that he’d found himself not sleeping, or eating, and the distraction might be just the thing. Hopefully it was dangerous.

“What’s going on? Where are we going?”

_“Here at the compound,”_ Steve told him.

Again his voice was so odd that the billionaire wished that he’d thought to enable video conferencing at the start of the call.

“Is it FRIDAY, again? FRIDAY? Run a-“

_“No. It isn’t your computer_,” Steve told him, interrupting. _“It’s… just get here, would you? As soon as you can.”_

“I’m on my way.”

Steve ended the call before Tony could and he tapped the nanobot housing unit on his chest as he headed for the door. The Ironman suit was fully engaged by the time he reached his balcony, and he shot into the sky, immediately, heading north and leaving a fiery trail in the night sky.

><><><><><><> 

The flight was short. Tony’s suit was capable of supersonic speeds and he’d had FRIDAY engage full thrust as soon as it had been safe to do so. The AI was scanning the compound even as he came screaming in for a landing, slowing only because he had to in order to avoid creating a giant crater, and it was a good thing that FRIDAY was handling the landing, because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing in his HUD.

The main roof of the compound was lit up like broad daylight; spotlights and emergency lights were all focused on the west section. Lined around the perimeter of the building, weapons drawn and pointing upward, were a dozen of the security agents that were responsible for the safety of the facility. Hovering overhead was Falcon, who looked up as Ironman came into view. Crazily, the sensors in the suit pointed out Natasha and Steve on the roof, both clearly focused on a single form that was clinging to the edge of a satellite array, about forty feet off the ground, wearing nothing but what looked like a set of white hospital scrubs.

FRIDAY didn’t recognize the lone figure, but _Tony_ absolutely did.

Even as he landed next to Steve, he was disengaging the suit. He looked at his friend, and then at Natasha, and then up at _Peter_, who had his face buried in the crook of his arm and didn’t seem to have noticed his arrival. Then he looked at Steve, again.

“What the hell is _going on_?”

“We’ll explain, later,” Steve promised. “See if you can get him to come _down_, will you? He’s freaking out the SHIELD guys.”

“And _me_,” Natasha added.

_“Me, too,”_ Sam agreed over the radio, easily able to listen in to the conversation. _“What the hell is he, Tony?”_

Stark ignored the question, and scowled at the others.

“Have them turn off the lights,” he ordered walking over to look up at Peter, who was vastly under-dressed for just how cold it was outside. “You’re scaring him.”

There was a curt command from Steve, and a moment later all of the spotlights were muted, until only the normal safety lights were remaining. Tony went to the edge of the roof, his eyes focused on Peter, not understanding what the boy was doing there, or why he wasn't dressed, but so relieved to see him – and so happy. Aside from the whole mess that was going on, just then.

“Peter…?”

There was no response from the boy – he didn’t even look around. He just kept his face against his arm, and his arm against the delicate equipment that he was sticking to. Tony wanted to climb up to the same level as Peter, but he knew none of it would support his weight, and flying up would risk chancing a burn from one of his thrusters if Peter moved the wrong direction.

“_Want me to zap him, or something?”_ Sam offered. “_Just to get him down so you can talk to him?”_

Tony scowled.

“No, I don’t want you to _zap_ him. Jesus _Christ_, guys.” He turned to Steve. “Get something warm, will you? A blanket or some clothes – a coat. _Anything_.” The billionaire looked up, again. “Peter… Peter honey, look at me.”

The boy moved his head, just a little, looking down at Tony, as if noticing him for the first time. And maybe that was the case.

“Hey…” Tony crooned, just loud enough to be heard. “Come down, honey. You’re scaring me.”

“Tony…?”

“Yeah. It’s me. Are you okay?”

Steve was handed a blanket, and he handed it to _Natasha_, assuming that she would be less frightening to the boy if she approached, being a woman. If he only _knew_. The assassin walked carefully over and handed it to Tony, and then moved back, well out of the way to allow the clearly terrified boy to see that she wasn't going to do anything. Tony never took his eyes from the boy above him.

“Peter,” he repeated. “Come down. Please?”

“I’m _scared_…”

“I _know_, honey. It’s okay. _Really_. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“I hurt, already.”

Tony looked over at Steve, who nodded.

“He was hit by a truck.”

There wasn't really time to ask for details. Tony looked back up at Peter.

“You’re okay, Peter…” he assured him. “Come down. _Please_, baby?”

The boy shifted, just a little, looking down at Tony and then at the others, who were all watching, not moving, or making any extra noises. Sam purposely moved even further away, making sure to do it slowly, so as not to frighten him any more than he already was.

“I…”

“Come on, honey,” Tony coaxed, holding his arms up to the boy. “Let’s get off the roof and someplace warm.”

Peter nodded, climbing down from his odd perch, and Tony stepped forward as he did, wrapping the blanket around him and using the same motion to gather him into his arms and hold him close. Peter was trembling and his eyes were wet with tears, but even more unsettling was the fact that Tony hadn’t missed the broken manacles on the boy’s wrists.

“Tony…” Peter whispered, brokenly, now burying his face into the older man’s neck with a sob.

“Shhhh… it’s okay, Peter… I’ve got you. You’re _good_. I promise.”

He held him for a long moment, trying to share his body heat, and his confidence, in equal portions, but Peter wasn't going to stop shivering any time soon, obviously.

“Let’s get you inside, alright?”

“They’re going to dissect me.”

Natasha frowned at the utter fear in the simple phrase, but she didn’t say anything, leaving the comforting up to Tony, just then.

“They’re not going to _dissect_ you, honey. I promise. They’re not going to do anything to you.” He looked down at the boy’s bare feet and the thin layer of snow they were standing in – just realizing that it was snowing there, too. “I’m going to pick you up, alright?”

“I’m okay.”

“I want to hold you.”

And he wanted to get him inside.

“Okay.”

Tony easily hefted Peter up into his arms, and the boy’s face went right back to his neck, clearly seeking comfort, but also obviously still hiding from the others. The billionaire turned his head to press a kiss against Peter’s temple, whispered that he loved him, and then headed for the rooftop access door with his trembling burden carefully ensconced in his arms.


	16. 16

He wasn't sure where to take him once they were inside.

“Are you injured, honey?” he murmured to Peter.

“I _hurt_.”

The boy’s voice was muffled by his insistence on keeping his face against Tony’s neck. Tony turned to look at Steve and Natasha, who were following, but not too closely.

“He was hit by a logging truck,” Steve explained. “The closest hospital was almost fifty miles away, so it was easier for us to just bring him here for treatment.”

“I can’t _believe_ he survived it,” Natasha said. “It _wasn't_ minor, Tony. The guy had to be going forty miles an hour, and he hit him all out.”

“Peter’s tougher than he looks,” Stark explained, his face pressing for a moment against Peter’s ear, lovingly, to comfort and to reassure himself, as well, that the boy hadn’t taken any harm. A _truck_? “We can put him in one of the med lab rooms.”

He felt the boy tremble at that, and Romanoff looked uncertain.

“That’s where he was when he ran.”

“No…” Peter murmured, shifting in Tony’s grip, although the blanket had him fairly well pinned. “Please…”

“My bed, then,” Tony said. It was private, and Peter would feel safer someplace that was more lived in than even one of the VIP rooms. “Okay?”

Peter simply nodded, and Tony carried him to his quarters, with Steve and Natasha still following, clearly not ready to finish the conversation, and wondering about the boy. Not that Tony could blame them. He hadn’t mentioned that Peter had any special abilities when telling the others about the young man (the _beautiful_ young man) that he’d been snowbound with. The display of sturdiness they must have seen, watching him get hit by a truck – and Tony was grateful that _he_ hadn’t seen that – not to mention the fact that they’d literally just plucked him off a rooftop had to have them both mad with curiosity.

Steve moved ahead when they reached Tony’s rooms and flipped the bedding back for Tony, who carefully deposited Peter into the bed and covered him with the rest of the blankets. They’d need to have him checked out, of course, but first they needed to calm him down – and explain to Tony what was going on and where he’d come from.

“Okay?” he asked Peter, leaning over him and brushing his bangs away from his forehead – which he now saw had a dark bruise marring the porcelain skin.

The boy’s eyes were still fearful, but he was beginning to calm down, now, and he nodded.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not _going_ to,” he assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed, but now turning to the other two. “Seriously, tell me why he’s _here_ – and what’s with the manacles on his wrists?”

His expression plainly said that it’d better be good.

“They aren’t _manacles_,” Steve said. “They’re _restraints_.”

Tony looked at Peter, who was watching the two Avengers, warily. He’d worked his hands free of the blankets and had one hand pressed against Tony’s leg but was leaning away from all of them, unconsciously.

“The doctors were worried he’d hurt himself, moving around like he was,” Natasha explained. “So they were to keep him still.”

Tony nodded, and removed the broken bracelets from Peter’s wrists, rubbing them gently when he noticed there were red marks from them. Probably from breaking free, he decided.

“Why is he _here_?” he took the boy’s hand. “Not that I’m not incredibly _happy_ to see you,” he added. “I’m just surprised to see you here.”

“I didn’t want to come,” Peter said, shakily. “I _told_ them when they asked that I was okay.”

“And then he got hit by a _truck_,” Steve said, defensively. “We weren’t going to leave him bleeding on the side of the road.”

“You’re bleeding?”

“I don’t know.”

“No. He _was_, but now it’s just a simple cut – already scabbed over and looking like he’s been sporting it for days, now. The doctors didn’t even think it was related to being hit but the truck, but I bandaged it, myself, so I knew better.”

“Any broken bones?” Tony asked them – not Peter, since he probably wouldn’t know.

“No,” Natasha assured him. “He’s _tough_, like you said.”

She offered the boy a smile, and he shifted a little, burying his face in Tony’s hip, not over his scare enough to be ready to be friends, yet.

“We thought we’d invite him to come visit,” Steve told Tony. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea – a good way to make Tony cheer up, since they all knew that he’d been moody – even before meeting and then leaving Peter. It still seemed like a good idea, only if they’d known the boy was terrified of them, they probably would have handled things differently. “To _surprise_ you.”

Tony smirked, too happy to see Peter (even upset as he was, just then) to be angry with them.

“Well, it worked; Im’ surprised. How did you _find_ him?” Tony asked. “I couldn’t.”

“It’s what I do best,” Natasha reminded him. “You’ve been so moody, lately, that Steve and I thought we’d track him down and see if we could convince him to at least come for a visit, so you could see that he was alright.”

“Things didn’t _exactly_ go according to plan,” Steve added, and now he offered Peter an encouraging smile, too.

“Yeah.” Tony brushed his hand against the back of Peter’s head, carding his fingers through his hair. “Hey? Did you _hear_ that? They aren’t going to dissect you.”

Steve’s expression turned troubled that the boy would even think something like that, but both of them understood why he’d been so afraid. Or at least _some_ of the reason why. Peter didn’t answer with anything more than a nod, and Natasha shrugged, looking at Tony.

“Why don’t we leave you guys alone, for a while?” she suggested. “He can relax a little more, and then we’ll have someone look at him – just to make sure he didn’t aggravate anything.”

“Yeah.” Tony looked at the two Avengers, his expression a mix of annoyance that they’d done something so crazy, and gratitude that they’d done something so crazy – for _him_. “Thanks.”

“We’ll see you guys in the morning.”

They left, closing the door behind them.

“FRIDAY? Lock my door.” Tony pulled away from Peter, his hands tilting the boy’s head, forcing him, gently, to look at him. “I was so worried about you, honey,” he murmured. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter sniffed, and rested his cheek on Tony’s leg. “I was scared. So I hid.”

“From me?”

“From _everyone_.”

“Where were you?”

“Coopersville. It’s near _Canada_.”

“I missed you…” Tony was caressing his cheek, now, alternating that with sliding his fingers through the boy’s hair. “I missed having you in my arms. And in my bed.”

Peter closed his eyes, again, but his smile was sincere, and he sniffed, again.

“I missed you, too, Tony.”

“Please don’t hide from me, again…”

The boy trembled.

“I… it’s… I’m afraid, Tony. What are they going to do to me? They know what I can do, now.”

He leaned over, awkwardly, to brush his lips against Peter’s cheek.

“They’re not going to do anything _to_ you,” he said, reassuringly. “But they can be your friends, if you let them. And your mentors. They can show you how to use your abilities, and not hide from them.”

“And you…?”

“I’ll be your mentor in other ways,” he promised. “Don’t forget who I am, honey,” Tony told him. “You want to be a research scientist? We can do that. An engineer? Easy peasy. Superhero? No sweat.”

“I just don’t want to be alone, anymore…”

“That can be arranged, too, Peter. I won’t let you be alone.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re still Ironman, then?”

Tony nodded.

“Yeah. Of course. I’m done hiding from it. You?”

“Yes.”

He was done hiding. And done running.

The older man smiled, shifting Peter so the boy was under him, now, but careful not to rest any weight on him, just in case he really was injured. The same reason that even though he really wanted to do much, much, more, all he did was brush a few tender butterfly kisses against his lips, and his cheeks and his forehead.

“I love you. You _know_ that, right?”

Peter’s smile was shy, and delighted. He wasn't going to be alone, anymore. He nodded.

“I love you, too.”

Tony shivered, and settled himself beside him. Time enough to discuss what happens, next. He was going to enjoy having Peter with him.

“Going to sleep?” he asked, stroking his hair, lightly.

“You’ll stay with me?”

The fear wasn't completely gone, after all. He’d been afraid for a long time.

“Of course I will, honey,” Tony said, lightly. “You’re in _my_ bed.”

Where else would he want to go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this could be the end. I mean, it wraps up decently. Or... I could make an epilogue and do a little bit of a time jump so we can see what becomes of them. Preferences? Thanks for reading, though, either way!


	17. 17

Peter didn’t sleep well that night, despite having Tony holding him close.

His subconscious – _even asleep_ – was aware of where he was, and the compound was the focal point of that which he was most afraid of, and had been for the last several years. The avengers were too close, and the scare that they’d inadvertently put him through was too fresh in his mind for him to really fully relax, immediately.

He tossed, and made soft, pained, noises whenever he hurt himself with each motion, which would wake Tony – if he was even asleep at the time.

“Shh…” Tony cooed, gently. “I’m here, honey.”

He was careful not to hold him too closely, though, worried that he might aggravate the soreness caused by the truck. The hand that he brushed along Peter’s hip was loving, though, and settled the boy, somewhat. That touch, or just plain exhaustion, finally settled Peter somewhere near dawn, and he fell into a deeper sleep, which allowed Tony to do the same.

><><><> 

The sun was shining brightly into the window when Peter woke, next.

He moved, carefully, but found that the pain that had bothered him the night before had settled into a dull ache.

“Are you awake?” a soft voice asked, making him turn his head to see that Tony was lounged in the bed beside him.

The older man was sitting up, and had clearly been awake a while, since he looked wide awake and was holding a tablet, sorting through some data of some kind. At the moment, though, his attention was completely on Peter.

“Yes.”

“How do you feel?”

“Alright.” Peter moved, experimentally, again, and was relieved that the healing thing seemed to be doing its thing, because he really didn’t ache too much. “You?”

“I’m not the one that was hit by the truck, honey,” Tony reminded him, setting his tablet aside and turning his body toward the boy. “I’m fine. And so happy to see you,” he added, sincerely.

Peter smiled at that, reaching out a hand to touch Tony’s.

“What are they going to do to me?” he asked, losing the smile as he remembered where he was.

“Nothing, Peter,” Tony told him. “We’re going to make sure that you’re not hurt. Nothing lingering from the truck – or from last night. Then we’ll feed you breakfast.”

“Then what?”

“It’s up to you, really,” came the ready answer. “If you want to, I’ll take you home with me – to the city. You can be my guest until you decide what you want to do.”

He’d mentioned that he was done hiding, but that didn’t mean that Tony could automatically assume that he was going to want to hang out long-term with him. Or with the Avengers, for that matter.

“Or…?”

“You can stay here. Maybe get to know some of the people around you. Learn what they’re really like, and not what you’ve assumed for so long.”

“Are you going back to the city, then?”

“Not right away.” He touched Peter’s cheek. “I want to be wherever _you_ are. For now, at least – unless you don’t want me there.”

The boy blushed, slightly, and rolled toward him, pressing his face against Tony’s side in a silent request to be held – which was granted, immediately. The billionaire decided that he didn’t hurt too much to be held, and gathered him into his arms, carefully.

“Were you here?” Peter asked, his face still against Tony, only now it was his chest. “When they brought me here?”

“No. I was in the city. Watching the snow fall.”

“It’s snowing?”

“It did last night – and it’s supposed to snow later today.” He smiled, and slid his hand along Peter’s hip. “Nothing like what you and I were buried under, before.”

“Too bad,” Peter said, absently – making Tony smile and shiver, just a little.

“We don’t need a snowstorm, honey,” he pointed out. “Just some quiet time.”

Peter sighed, softly, and closed his eyes, again, but Tony wasn't ready to allow him to go back to sleep, just yet.

“You should have some breakfast,” he told his young lover. “And I want a doctor to look at you.”

Peter shivered – and this time it was fear, Tony knew.

“I’m okay.”

“He’s not going to hurt you.”

“No. I know.” _Sort of_. “I don’t hurt, too much, now.”

“Please, honey? I need to make sure. For my own piece of mind. Hearing about the truck scared me.”

The boy hesitated.

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Tony tilted the boy’s head up, toward him, and kissed him, tenderly.

“Thank you.”

That made Peter smile, and shiver, again – and not with fear.

“You’re welcome.”

><><><><><

“So, what’s this kid’s story?”

Rogers shrugged.

“We’re not sure, Nick. Tony seems to know – and _Peter_, of course. But he didn’t tell us.”

“The kid?”

“Or Tony.”

“Peter’s afraid of us,” Natasha added.

“Of you, in particular?” Fury asked.

“Of the Avengers,” she corrected. “As near as I can tell. It didn’t matter which one of us looked at him – or came close to him. He panicked.”

“Big time,” Sam added.

“What do you make of it?” Fury asked Natasha, trusting her observation skills beyond anyone else’s.

Now it was her turn to shrug, and her expression was troubled.

“He mentioned being afraid that we were going to dissect him,” she told Nick. “With the crazy abilities that he has, I can only assume that he’s afraid we’re going to want to find out how he does what he does – and that we’re willing to go to any measure to figure that out.”

“He understands that we’re the good guys, right?” Fury asked, looking shocked that anyone would think the avengers were capable of something so ghastly.

“I don’t think he quite has that mindset,” Steve said. “I mean, I’m _Captain America_, right? And he’s terrified of me.”

“Huh.” Fury frowned. “Where is he, now?”

“Tony says they just woke up. He’s going to walk Peter to the med lab, first, and have him checked out. Then they will come eat. Or, if Peter’s too nervous to eat near us, they’ll eat someplace quieter.”

“_They_?”

Natasha smiled.

“You’ve missed all the interesting gossip, Nick,” she said. “Being away like you were. Apparently, Tony really likes this guy.”

Fury frowned.

“How old is he?”

“Old enough to not be a felony,” Sam said. “But young enough to not need to worry about taking him out drinking with the gang.”

“Like he’d be willing to, even if he were old enough,” Romanoff said.

“Good point.”

“So, what is his skillset?”

He could worry about Stark’s love life later. If the kid was a potential asset, Fury wanted to know. If he was a potential foe, then he absolutely needed to know.

“He’s strong,” Steve said. “And durable.”

“And he can climb pretty well,” Sam added.

“Parkor?”

“No. He just sticks to the wall,” Romanoff said. “And he heals fast.”

“We saw him get hit by a logging truck last night,” Steve said. “And when he went to bed, he was only stiff and sore.”

“That could come in handy, around here…”

“If he didn’t hide from everyone that looked his direction,” Sam told him. “Kid’s spooked. Big time.”

“Maybe I’ll go talk to him.”

Romanoff rolled her eyes. As sinister as Fury looked, he’d scare Peter before the man even introduced himself to the boy.

“I think we’re better off giving Tony first crack at him. See if he can reassure him of our intentions, and maybe get him to open up to us.”

“What _are_ our intentions, again?” Clint asked, speaking up for the first time.

“That depends on Peter,” Fury said, looking at his core team. “Keep me apprised on what you find out.”

With that, he left the lounge, and Natasha shook her head.

“We’re probably going to find out that Peter wants to go back to Cooperstown.”

“Coopersville,” Steve corrected.

“Whatever.”

Steve shrugged.

“Tony’s persuasive. Let’s wait and see what happens.” He looked at them all and they nodded. “And if you happen to come across Peter in the hallway or something, for God’s sake don’t even mention dissecting him, or something like that. Okay?”

They all rolled their eyes, but nodded.

It would be a good joke, some day. But definitely not anytime soon.


	18. 18

Peter held back when he and Tony walked into the medical room. Not the same one that he’d bolted from, before; this one was an examination room. It was the same doctor, though, but he had been briefed, and was sitting on the edge of the exam table when they walked in, and didn’t make any indication that he was going to move, right away.

He simply smiled at the young man.

“How did you sleep?”

“Okay.”

“He was pretty restless,” Tony told the doctor. “I think it hurt to move.”

“Does it still?”

Peter shook his head.

“I’m okay.”

“Take off your shirt for me, will you?”

Trembling, but reassured by a nod from Tony, Peter did what he was told, and the doctor got up, needing to step closer to look at the mottled bruising on the young man’s chest and back.

“You walked in just fine,” he said. “But do these hurt?”

“No. Not much.”

“That’s remarkable…” the doctor walked over to a counter, picking up the file that he’d started on Peter the day before. “Go ahead and put your shirt back on. It’s too cold to be running around without clothes on.”

Peter nodded, and realized, then, that he didn’t have any other clothes to wear besides the scrubs – and they weren’t very warm. Tony realized the same thing, but he wasn't worried. They had plenty of warm things to wear. Even some Peter’s size.

“How does he look, doctor?” Tony asked.

“Considering he was hit by a truck?” the doctor said, shaking his head. “It’s astounding. Have you ever broken any bones, son?”

Peter shook his head.

“Not that I remember.”

It was clear that the doctor was curious about him, but he didn’t want a repeat of Peter’s panic attack, either, so he simply nodded, and looked at Tony.

“He’s fine. Nothing too active for the next week or so – just to be on the safe side – but I don’t have any restrictions for him.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

The man nodded, again, and this time he looked at Peter.

“If you start hurting, or if anything feels off, tell someone and they’ll find me. Got it?”

“Yes.”

The agreement was hesitant, but it was there. And Peter hadn’t run screaming from the room. Tony would take it as a win. They left the doctor shaking his head and walked out into the corridor, with Tony’s hand on the small of Peter’s back.

“We need to get you something to wear.”

“Okay.”

><><><><> 

Peter’s clothes were somewhere in a bag, placed there when he’d been brought to the compound and put into the medlab bed. Tony didn’t bother to go back to ask the doctor where they were. Whatever Peter needed could be obtained in the SHIELD stores, and that was where he took the boy, next.

“These are just going to be until we can get you some real clothes,” Tony assured him as the compound quartermaster sized the young man up and then started piling all kinds of supplies on the counter between them.

“I _have_ clothes,” Peter reminded him.

“Yeah. Three hundred miles away…”

Which reminded the young man of other things.

“All of my stuff is there. I need to go get it.”

“But not this minute, right?” Tony asked. “I mean, no one’s going to steal it, are they?”

“Of course not.” It was a little town, filled with honest people. “But I still-“

“I’ll take you up there in a day or so.”

“I could just go… it isn’t that far.”

“It’s easier for someone to take you. You don’t have a driver’s license, correct?”

“No.”

He hadn’t needed one, and hadn’t wanted yet another way for someone to find him. If not for the classes that he was taking, he’d have been able to be almost completely off the grid, really. Especially in Coopersville.

“See? Easier for me – or someone else, but preferably _me_ – to take you, then. It’s faster than a bus. Or hitchhiking.”

Really, Tony just didn’t want Peter going back there alone, where he might change his mind about returning to hiding. No matter what he wanted to do with his life, he needed to be somewhere more populated in order to achieve it – and Tony really wanted Peter at his side, in whatever capacity the younger man was willing to fill.

Peter shrugged, thanking the man and picking up the pile of clothes, while Tony gathered anything that he couldn’t get his arms around. There was a lot of clothing, including a warm coat, but it was all gray, or black or white. He’d need his own clothes, if for no other reason than he wanted a little color.

“Alright.”

“We’re going to put you in the rooms next to mine,” Tony told him as they walked out of the store rooms and down the corridor once more. “That way you have a place to call your own while you’re here.”

“How long are they going to keep me here?”

“Until you want to leave.”

“I can’t stay here, Tony,” Peter told him, his expression worried.

“They’re not going to hurt you. Peter. You need to spend some time here, to prove that to yourself. It’ll help you get over your fear.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Not as easy as _hiding_.”

Peter quelled, looking away from him, and using the stack of clothing in his arms to block Tony from his view. That had hurt – no matter how true it was. It made him feel like a coward – which he was, of course, and he knew it – but now _Tony_ knew it, too.

If he hadn’t figured it out, before.

Aware of the sudden silence between them, and a tension that he didn’t like, Tony sighed.

“I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”

Obviously, Peter’s fears were well ingrained in him, by then, and belittling him for them wasn't going to help things. Besides, Tony didn’t know all the backstory. He hadn’t wanted to discuss it when they’d been snowed in, after all, and Tony hadn’t wanted to press.

Especially when they had had other things to distract them at the time.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Tony was apologizing for being a dick. Peter was apologizing for being afraid.

The tension didn’t fade as they walked, though, and Tony mentally kicked himself as he opened the door to Peter’s temporary quarters.

“Home sweet home,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, setting the small bundle he’d been carrying onto a small stand near the door. “Change into something with less of a hospital vibe, and I’ll show you around and we’ll get some breakfast.”

Peter wasn't so sure that he wanted to look around, just yet. He set his own, larger pile of supplies onto the dresser and looked at the older man.

“Will you just hold me for a while?” he asked, unaware just how overwhelmed he looked – and how very young. “Please? I promise I’ll look around later.”

Tony made a soft sound, and stepped up, bringing his arms around Peter, who trembled just a little as he rested his cheek against Tony’s chest.

“We’ll take it slow, Peter,” Tony told him. “Okay?” he pressed a kiss against the young man’s temple and hugged him, tightly. “Just you and me, for now.”

They could add others, later, and build up to it.


	19. 19

“Have I mentioned how much I missed you?” Tony murmured, some time later, turning his head and pressing yet another kiss against Peter’s cheek. It wasn’t the first – not even close – and it wasn't the first time in the near forty minutes that they’d been sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed that Tony had said something similar.

He’d called him amazing a few times, had commented on how pretty he was and had told him just how glad he was to have him where he was. Peter had responded to each lovingly whispered word with a smile, and even a few light kisses of his own.

“I missed you, too,” the younger man assured him. “I didn’t think I was going to see you. Again.”

“Ever?”

“Right.”

“That wouldn’t have happened, honey,” Tony admitted. “Eventually I would have gone all out to try and find you – or decided to send Romanoff to do it.”

“Is she _really_ that good?”

He smiled, tucking Peter’s head under his chin, and squeezing him as tightly as he dared considering the bruising that he’d seen.

“Even better.”

“When I first saw them…” Peter said, softly, his hand sliding along Tony’s side – more for the comfort of the touch than to arouse. “I was so sure that they were looking for me because you’d told them what I could do.”

“I told you that I wouldn’t.”

“I know. But the timing was pretty conspicuous. They hadn’t come looking for me before I met you, after all.”

“That’s a fair point.” Tony ran his hand under the thin material of the scrubs, tracing Peter’s hip. “You know I didn’t, now, though, right?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not telling them.

“You’re welcome. I did tell them that we met, though. And how wonderful you are. And how sexy.”

Peter smiled, lifting his head and looking at Tony.

“You think I’m sexy?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, acting nonchalant. “You know… for a guy wearing a hospital gown.”

“It’s not a gown.”

“It’s not very flattering,” Tony said, his hand going to the waistband of the pants. “You should take them off.”

He had him relaxed, now. Now he wanted to have a chance to remind the younger man just how much he’d missed him – and how very well they fit together. Besides, he really wanted Peter naked, suddenly.

“Can I?” Peter asked him, and Tony felt him shiver – not in fear. “Can we…?”

“If we _want_ to, we can,” Tony assured him, and now his hand slid under Peter’s pants and along his inner thigh, which was suddenly open for him. You missed me?”

“Yes.”

He’d said it, already, but his breath hitched, just then, when Tony’s searching fingers found his suddenly interested penis.

“A lot?” Tony asked, fingertips tracing the length of him, his eyes watching Peter’s face.

“Definitely.”

Tony could feel his own heartbeat start to race, just a little.

“Get naked for me, Peter,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around Peter’s shaft and caressing him for a long moment.

Until Peter pulled back, easing himself out of Tony’s grasp, and then out of his embrace, as well. He stood up and pulled his shirt off, while Tony watched. Before he could reach for the pants, though, the billionaire reached out and pulled him close, parting his legs so Peter could stand between them. Peter held his breath, watching Tony’s eyes as the man hooked his fingers into the fabric gathered at his waist and gently tugged it down until it was pooling at Peter’s ankles.

“Tony…”

“Shh, honey,” Tony whispered, looking up at him, before turning his attention to Peter’s cock, stroking it, lovingly, his gaze admiring every inch of flesh. “I’m going to taste you. Yeah?”

Peter nodded, wordlessly, and arched slightly toward Tony, silently asking him to do just that.

Which he did.

Tony made a soft noise and brought his head down, mouth opening to take Peter’s cock, eagerly. The boy groaned, and his hands went to Tony’s shoulders as he was reminded just how incredible it felt to have Tony lavish his undivided attentions on his cock.

“Yes…” he murmured, one hand finding Tony’s hair, fingers threading it as he watched.

Tony chuckled, amused – and pleased – at the reaction, and he deepthroated Peter, who gasped at the sensation. Not surprisingly, considering how long it had been, Peter’s hips were soon rocking; slowly at first and then with more determination, as he edged closer to his release. He tried to pull back, a little, wanting to make the delicious feeling last as long as possible, but Tony had different ideas and held Peter’s hips with both hands, now, keeping him in place as he swallowed him, expertly, and then sucked just the head. A couple of flicks of his tongue along the underside and Peter whimpered and then climaxed, his hand grasping Tony’s hair, and the other clutching his shoulder.

Tony didn’t even notice the grip that the boy had on him. He guzzled everything Peter had to offer, and then cleaned him, lovingly, making noises that were designed to excite Peter as he did. The younger man sighed when Tony finally pulled back, releasing his cock with a soft popping noise and looked up at him.

“I missed being able to suck on you whenever I wanted to,” Tony told him.

“I missed that, too,” Peter said. He leaned down so that he could kiss Tony, but when his hand went to the older man’s lap, Tony caught it, deepening their kiss, heatedly, and bringing both arms around Peter’s slim, naked, body.

“Not yet, honey,” Tony told him, holding him in his strong arms. “I can wait until later. We need to get you fed and dressed in something warmer than those scrubs.”

“Why?”

Tony smiled.

“Because it’s going to snow, and while you and I both know how much fun it is to be snowed in, we can wait until later. Right?”

“I don’t want to wait,” Peter said, his lips finding Tony’s bare skin and kissing it. “I want to feel you inside me. On top of me. Driving me into the-“

“You’re killing me,” Tony groaned. He was pleased, though, because he’d much rather have Peter horny (and extremely satiated) than have him frightened. If a blowjob was going to get that process going, then he would have done it a dozen more times. He definitely figured it would be a good distraction – and he did want to get laid, of course. But he could wait. “I want you to have something a little more substantial for breakfast, honey. Okay?"

The boy’s lower lip came out in an unconscious pout, but he nodded, rather than argue.

“Alright.”

“Get something on,” Tony told him, still sliding his palms over Peter’s rear, spreading his cheeks, a little, as he did. He was definitely looking forward to laying claim to that wonderfully tight ass, again. “Something warm. We’ll go eat in the lounge. It’s a lot quieter than the commissary – and more private.”

It was a measure of how relaxed he was, just then (thanks to the blowjob and the aftermath of it) that Peter didn’t even shiver at the thought. He just nodded, and reluctantly pulled away.

“Alright.”


	20. 20

“I need to go get my own clothes…”

Tony looked at the young man who was walking beside him, nervously. Peter was dressed in black sweats (with plain white boxers underneath), a white t-shirt that was covered with a white sweatshirt that had the SHIELD logo on it, socks and a pair of unremarkable sneakers that were white and so new they threw a reflection of all the they lights in the corridor as they walked under them.

“You look fine.”

“I’m _uncomfortable_.”

Tony’s hand found the small of Peter’s back.

“You’d be uncomfortable no matter what you were wearing, honey,” he pointed out, gently.

“I’d still feel better…”

Wearing SHIELD clothing – or _any_ kind of government agency clothing was too close to the government and the dangers that Ben had insisted were posed to Peter from the moment they discovered what he could do. In his own clothes, he could pretend that none of it had happened.

But he couldn’t, really, and he knew it. He was walking through the Avenger compound with Ironman beside him. He’d met Captain America, and Black Widow, and they all knew his secret, now. And who knew how many others did?

“You’re tensing up,” Tony murmured, softly. “Relax. You’re alright. I’m right here with you, and no one is going to touch you. Except _me_, of course. And only wildly inappropriate ways, I promise.”

It could have backfired, of course, but it didn’t. Tony was relieved to see Peter smile in response to his quip. He did inch a little closer to the older man, though, and his hand brushed against Tony’s side, since the other man’s hand was out of reach.

“Please don’t leave me alone, here.”

“It’s okay, Peter,” he told him, moving to take Peter’s hand and squeezing it. “They’re not going to hurt you.”

He wondered what horrible things Ben had told Peter to make him so afraid – even when faced with a much less dire reality.

“I should go back to the room.”

“No.” Tony stopped, bringing Peter to a stop, too, and pulling him into his arms, holding him, tightly, before the younger man’s already flagging courage could fail him, completely. He felt Peter’s arms come around him and even though he wasn't actually trembling, he was so tense that Tony thought his muscles were going to all cramp at once. “You’re okay, Peter. I promise. We’re almost to the lounge. We’ll find a corner – a dark, _quiet_ corner – and have something to eat and just relax for a while.”

Peter finally nodded, and let him go – although he reached, blindly for his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, honey, it’s okay,” he repeated. “You’ll see. Everything is going to be good. We’ll have pancakes – or scrambled eggs, and then we’ll find a place to sit and watch the snow fall.”

“It’s snowing here, now?”

Tony smiled, turning at a cross-corridor and pulling Peter by the hand to a window. A large bay window that overlooked a field, and a couple of jets, as well as an area of trees in the distance. There were fat snowflakes falling, thickly, and it looked as if it had been for a little while, now, since there was a thin dusting of snow already covering the grass as well as the jets.

“It started about a twenty minutes ago.” He turned his head to look at Peter, but the younger man was watching the snow. Tony kissed his ear, wetting it with the tip of his tongue to try and distract him, further. “Want to go make snow angels?”

That made Peter smile, and the tongue in his ear made him shiver, delightfully.

“Not really. You’d warm me up, even if I wasn't cold, right?”

“Absolutely.” Tony stood with him, watching out the window for several more minutes, feeling the tension drain out of Peter the longer they watched the snow. “Ready to eat?”

“Yes.”

><><><><>> 

The compound was large, and Peter had only seen a very small portion of it the short time that he’d been there. The windows told him that he was on a higher level than the ground – he thought it was probably the second floor. Tony walked him down a well-lit corridor that was lined with windows, as if he understood it was a little more comforting for Peter to be able to see something other than walls.

As they walked, Tony told him about the construction of the place, the reason for it, and who all lived there full-time as opposed to those who only worked there during the week. He purposely left out the research scientists, well aware that it was the last thing that Peter needed to know about – even though none of them were doing any kind of human experimentations as far as the billionaire knew.

“You have a room here but you don’t stay here, permanently?”

A question, at last!

Tony shook his head.

“It’s far enough away that if I’m out here, it’s usually for a day or more, so it’s convenient for me to have a suite of rooms. I built the place, it’s only fair, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There are a lot of other things, here,” he added. “A pool, weight rooms, a gym – of _course_ – and a theater room.”

“For movies?”

“Or briefings. Usually movies, though, if they can all agree on one.”

“Wow.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Leave it to Peter to be terrified of being around avengers and excited to watch a movie. He slapped his shoulder, lightly.

“We’ll look into it, some time, okay?”

Peter just nodded, and a moment later, Tony was guiding him into a large, open room with a bar along one wall, and a door behind it that led to a kitchen, as well as several tables, a few couches and all the things that Peter would normally think of when he thought of a bar, or a tavern. A few large TVs on the walls, a pool table, a couple of pinball machines. Even a dartboard.

There was also another large window, and even though it wasn't actually in the corner, Tony walked him over to a table that was in front of the window and pressed him down into a chair that would give him a view of the room as well as the scenery outside. There wasn't anyone else in any of the tables, although there was a bartender at the bar and some voices could be heard in the kitchen.

“It’s not like a restaurant,” Tony told him as he sat across from him. “The server will come and tell you what the choices are – there are usually only a couple – and you say what you want. Easy enough, yeah?”

Peter nodded, looking around with interest. It wasn't a science lab or a place with an exam table, so it didn’t make him nervous. A young woman with a friendly smile walked over from behind the bar almost immediately. She smiled at Stark and glanced at Peter.

“Hey, Tony,” she said, greeting him with a smile and a flash of her blue eyes and long eye lashes. “Who’s your cute friend?”

Peter blushed, immediately, and Tony smiled at the sight.

“This is Peter. He’s from out of town. Peter, this is Marissa.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, please.”

“Oh, he’s polite, too,” the young woman said with another flash of those long eyelashes. She somehow managed to look at both of them. “We have French toast and we have omelets. Sausage, bacon or ham.”

“I’ll have an omelet,” Tony told her. “Denver, with a side of sausages.”

They both looked at Peter, who flushed at the dual attention – although it wasn't nervous.

“French toast, please.”

“Sausage?”

“Okay.”

“Coffee, guys?”

She knew Tony was going to want some, so the question was really aimed at Peter, who nodded.

“Sure. Thank you.”

The woman left, only to return with two cups of coffee, which she set in front of them with a flourish, and proclaimed that their breakfast wouldn’t be too long. Tony smiled, holding his arms out in a clear _I told you so_ gesture.

“See? Nothing to worry about. What did I tell you?”

Suddenly, almost without warning, they weren’t alone. Standing beside the table, arriving as quietly as if he’d been conjured, there was a large, imposing bald man in all black leather. The man was dark, and had an eyepatch with scarring across his features that the patch didn’t cover. He looked at Tony, intently, and then turned that same gaze on Peter.

“Who’s your friend, Tony?”


	21. 21

Tony gave Fury a look that Peter didn’t notice, but the SHIELD director’s expression was unreadable.

“This is my friend Peter,” he said, introducing them. “Peter? This is Nick Fury. He’s the director of SHIELD.”

And intimidating enough that Tony was surprised that Peter didn’t get up and run away, then and there.

“It’s nice to meet you, Peter. Are they taking care of you?”

The young man nodded, hesitantly.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Tony’s shown you the place?”

Nick didn’t seem to notice that Peter looked nervous – but Tony knew that he didn’t miss anything. One eye or not. Which meant that this meeting had a purpose.

“Some of it.”

“It’s a big place,” Fury agreed. “I just got back from a mission to Belize. Interesting place, Belize. You know why?”

Since he was asking Peter, directly, the boy couldn’t help but answer.

“Why?”

Tony tried to catch Nick’s eye, his own expression clearly saying that Peter didn’t need to know what was so interesting about Belize. Fury ignored it, his own attention purely on the boy.

“There’s a group of people there. They call themselves the Brotherhood of Peace. They seem to think that peace is obtainable by attrition. You know what attrition means?”

“Yes.”

Peter seemed held in place by Fury’s force of presence alone. At least, he wasn't looking for an escape route, Tony noticed.

“So, these geniuses thought that they could obtain peace by trying to take out everyone who opposes their ideals. The top people on that list are the Avengers and SHIELD. They ambushed a group of my SHIELD operatives who were guarding a supply shipment to a refugee camp.”

“What happened?”

Peter was fascinated, of course. It was beginning to sound like one of the hundreds of action/adventure movies that he’d ever seen. Forgetting – for the moment, at least – that he was terrified of both the Avengers and almost certainly SHIELD, he was aghast at the idea that anyone would think to try and kill some of them. Especially on a peace mission, like it sounded. He wanted to know what had been done.

“I gathered up a hundred of my closest friends and took care of the situation – with the help of the local authorities. Now what is left of the Brotherhood of Peace is on the run, and can’t hurt anyone. The Avenger initiative is my baby – and SHIELD is near and dear to me.”

“Oh.”

Fury nodded, and then gestured to the room they were in.

“This compound is SHIELD and Avenger headquarters, to a degree. Tony here funded the build, of course, which makes him feel a little proprietary toward it, obviously, but the place is filled with SHIELD agents, and Avengers. That means that the people here are _my_ responsibility. I’m responsible for them. To make sure that no one screws with anyone under this roof.” For the first time, the man smiled, startling Peter (and _Tony_). “That includes anyone here as a guest.”

Tony finally figured out what Fury was getting at. It took Peter a lot longer.

“Peter’s my _guest_ here, Nick,” Stark said, evenly.

“Yeah?” The director nodded. “Then that makes him my responsibility – as well as yours.”

“Yes.”

Fury turned to Peter.

“Anyone messes with you, Peter – or even _looks_ at you funny – you let Tony know. He’ll tell me and I’ll deal with it. Got it?”

Peter nodded, dumbly.

“Yes.” He hesitated. “Thank you.”

“I need to go unpack. Sorry to interrupt your conversation. Hopefully I’ll see you later.”

Tony nodded.

“Bye, Nick.”

The man left, and Peter stared after him.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“What?” Peter jerked his attention back to the older man. “Oh. Yes. Sorry.”

Tony’s hand came out to touch Peter’s.

“You understand what he was trying to tell you in his not-so-subtle way?”

“Kind of.”

“He’s reminding you that no one is going to hurt you, here. If anyone did, they’d have to answer to him. And to _me_.”

Peter looked a little awed (and still somewhat nervous) but he nodded. Before he could say anything, though, a server brought their breakfast, and Peter was suddenly aware of being about as hungry as he could ever remember being.

“Eat up,” she told them, cheerfully.

And then she left them alone.

Tony waited until Peter started eating.

“A quiet day for the two of us,” he said, pleased that Peter seemed a little more relaxed – and a bit amazed that it was apparently _Nick Fury_ who managed to calm him. “We’ll finish eating and then we’ll go hole up someplace and watch the snow fall and spend some time together.”

Peter nodded, feeling a thrill go through him.

“Just you and me?” he asked.

At first the older man assumed that Peter was worried that some of the others might want to talk to him, like Nick had. But then he realized that the boy was asking how much privacy they were going to have for a completely different reason.

He smiled, and couldn’t help the gleam in his eyes when he did. And his smile grew when Peter blushed, reminding Tony just how fucking adorable he was.

“I’ll make sure we lock the door and put out a do not disturb sign.”

Peter just shook his head.

“Locking the door is enough.”

“Eat,” Tony told him, gesturing to his plate. He winked. “You’re going to need your strength.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“It seems to me that I’ve heard you tell me that, before…”

“And I was right, wasn't I?”

“Yeah.”

He turned his attention to his meal, and Tony took his own advice and did the same.

><><><><>> 

When they were done eating, they went back to Tony’s quarters. They were nicer, larger and FRIDAY was integrated with the system and could guarantee their privacy better than any lock could. Not to mention, the window was bigger and was tinted. They could look out at the snow, but because it faced south, Tony had made sure the sun wasn't going to be shining in his rooms all the time without the capacity to block it. As well as any prying eyes, of course.

“Have I mentioned how glad I am to see you?” Tony said – again – as he closed the door behind them, shutting the world out and not too surprised to see Peter finally relax, completely.

The young man nodded, and stepped into Tony’s arms before he was invited, which was absolutely fine with the billionaire.

“I missed you, Tony,” Peter told him.

“Oh, Peter…” He kissed his ear, which was the part that was turned toward him with Peter’s face buried in his chest like it was. His hands slid down the boy’s sides, slipping under his shirt, brushing bare skin there, before moving down and sliding under the back of the sweats Peter was wearing. “You’re so incredible.”

“You are, too.”

Tony pulled back, just enough to tilt Peter’s head up and claim a heated kiss. Then another. One more that brushed the corner of his mouth.

“Get naked for me, Peter. Let me look at you.”

There was a throaty chuckle.

“I thought we were going to watch the snow falling?”

“We _will_,” Tony assured him, reaching for his own shirt. “After.”


	22. 22

It was exactly the reunion both had been hoping for – even though the circumstances that had brought them back together weren’t exactly ideal for either of them.

Once Tony had Peter undressed in front of him, he took his time making love to the younger man; renewing their relationship, and their roles with each other. He went to his knees, first, and sucked him off once more, taking the edge off for Peter – although the sounds that the boy made didn’t do anything but drive Tony crazy with desire.

Luckily, Peter wasn't shy about making sure that Tony understood just how happy he was to be with him. The young man was a lot stronger than he looked – Tony already knew that – and when he pressed the billionaire down to the bed, Tony didn’t really have any choice other than to go. Peter followed, and Tony almost shot his load off then and there at the sight of Peter kneeling beside him, ass in the air while his head bobbed over Tony’s mid-section.

Peter didn’t let up until Tony had climaxed, as well. Yes, the boy wanted him inside him, wanted to have Tony above him, thrusting hard; his eyes hungry with need as he claimed him, but Peter wanted Tony to feel as good as he did, just then, and nothing would satisfy him except to hear that soft moan of completion, and feel hot cum running down his throat.

Tony lay in the bed panting for a few long moments, while Peter lounged beside him, running his fingers along his chest and belly, giving him a chance to catch his breath.

“God…”

Peter smiled, pleased with himself.

“_Peter_.”

Which made Tony chuckle.

“Smart ass.” The billionaire rolled over, on top of Peter, straddling his hips and looking down at him. “You’re amazing.”

“You might be a bit biased.”

“True. But it doesn’t make it any less valid.”

He leaned down and kissed Peter, softly, his body already reacting to the sight of Peter underneath him. Peter smiled up at him, not at all alarmed at being pinned under Tony’s weight. The younger man’s hand found Tony’s cock, watching the billionaire’s expression as his fingers wrapped around the shaft and began stroking him, lightly at first, and a little more eagerly when Tony’s groaned and started rutting into his hand.

“You’re pretty amazing, too,” the young man told him.

“Of course I am,” Tony replied with a smile, leaning over so he could kiss Peter, his hips still rocking, his cock sliding in and out of Peter’s palm. “I’ll be the first to tell you that.”

Peter chuckled, arching slightly into Tony.

“So modest.”

Tony pulled his hips back, freeing himself from Peter’s grasp and with the same motion shifted to bring Peter’s knees up and push them apart so he could slip himself in between the young man’s thighs. Now his cock, so eager, was brushing in against Peter’s, and the look he gave the boy was hungry.

“The word I’d use right now is _horny_,” he told Peter, pressing forward to rub his cock against Peter’s, enjoying the way the boy was swelling under the assault. “I need you, honey. Please?”

Peter nodded, reaching for his head to pull him down for another kiss. He liked that Tony was still careful enough with him that he wasn't assuming anything – although at the moment there shouldn’t be any doubt that Peter was completely on board with the idea of having Tony inside him, finally.

“Yes. Whatever you want, Tony.”

“Oh, yes,” Tony murmured, raising up enough to reach for the stand by the bed – and the lube he had made sure was there, earlier. “You’re in for it now, honey…”

Rather than tremble in fear at the ominous words, Peter found himself shivering for an entirely different – and much better – reason. He moaned, softly, when he felt Tony’s slick fingers searching for his tight, puckered hole, and arched against the touch.

“Please, Tony… yes…”

><><><>< 

“I told you that you were amazing…?”

It was much later, and the softly whispered voice was thick with weariness, and laced with satisfaction. Peter made a noise of agreement, running his hand along Tony’s bare hip. It was easy enough to reach, since Peter was sprawled across him, straddling his upper thighs, his cum drying on Tony’s chest from his last orgasm, and _Tony’s_ most recent offering slowly trickling out of Peter’s now somewhat sore rear and slicking their sweaty skin.

“Yeah.”

“I _meant_ it.”

“So much for watching it snow,” Peter told him, amused, and certain that he wasn't going to be able to move for at least a week.

“No. We’re still going to watch.”

“I’m good, right here…”

Tony smiled, feeling a bit smug by just how incredibly satiated Peter sounded, just then.

“Come on, honey,” he said, pushing Peter enough to get him moving, and allowing the boy to roll off him. “We’ll get cleaned up a bit and then spend some quiet time cuddling.”

Nothing was better than post-sex cuddling.

Peter grumbled at the thought of doing anything more physical than laying right where he was, but he allowed Tony to pull him to his feet, and then into the bathroom – and the shower. The spray felt good on his overheated skin, and it was relaxing to have Tony take charge of things and wash both of them from head to toe.

“You’re not going to sing opera for me?” he asked, leaning into the billionaire so Tony could wash his back, and his rear.

“Another time,” Tony promised, catching the reference to a different conversation that they’d had back in the cabin.

He rinsed them clean, dried them off, and without bothering to collect any clothing he took Peter’s hand and stopped just long enough to pick up a warm comforter from the foot of the bed and led Peter into the living area – and the sofa in front of the huge window and the snow that was still falling, heavily, outside.

Tony settled on the couch, first, while Peter watched, and then, once he was comfortable, Peter moved to lay in his arms. Resting on Tony’s belly and chest, his lower body between his legs and intimately close, Peter was turned just enough to be able to look out the window.

“It’s really coming down,” he said, softly.

“M-hmmm…” Tony wasn't concerned. He reached for the blanket and pulled it down around them, covering Peter, warmly, and shifting under him just enough to make sure that he had access to the boy’s uninterested penis. His hand found it, and he began to caress it, lightly, while his lips pressed tight against Peter’s ear. “What do we have here…? I wonder if I can get you hard, again…”

He was young, after all, and had the libido of a young man.

Peter sighed, enjoying the company as much as he was enjoying the touch of the man he was sprawled on top of.

“Don’t stop.”

“And if I _did_?” Tony teased, lightly, using his free hand to reach for Peter’s chin and tilt his head just right for a slow, lazy kiss. “If I suddenly got a cramp in my hand and just couldn’t keep going…?”

“I’d probably pout,” Peter told him, his tongue sliding along Tony’s lower lip. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“No. I suppose not.” He nibbled on Peter’s lip, but his hand stopped what it was doing. “I want you to be happy, Peter. That’s my new goal in life.”

“To make me happy?”

“Yes. What will it take?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted, bringing his cheek down to rest on Tony’s bare shoulder. “I feel pretty good, right now.”

“That’s _sexual_,” Tony said. “I mean; all around. Do you want to go to school? A _real_ one? Not online? Would that do it?”

“I’d like to, yeah. Of _course_.”

“Your secret’s out, now,” Tony reminded him. “You don’t have to hide, anymore. Everyone who should know what you can do already knows, now – and _you_ know they aren’t going to do anything about it.”

“Nick won’t let them…”

Which made Tony smile, even though Peter couldn’t see it.

“Right.”

“I don’t know…” Peter said, feeling a weight suddenly lifting from his shoulders as he forced his sexually satiated mind to think about what Tony was saying. He was right; the secret was well and truly out, and there was no reason to hide, now. Yes, he still needed to be careful – but he didn’t have to fear the avengers coming for him. They _had_ him, and they hadn’t hurt him. And Nick (_and Tony_) were both determined to make sure Peter understood that they weren’t going to allow anything to happen to him. “I’ll think about it.”

Tony realized that the hypnotic snowfall and the exertions of the last couple of hours were combining to put Peter to sleep. He didn’t press; instead, he shifted just a little, once more making certain that the young man in his arms was covered, kissed Peter’s temple, and brushed his hand along his back, soothingly.

“Think about it, later, honey,” he murmured. “Go to sleep.”

Peter did as he was told, and was soon snoring, lightly, in Tony’s ear.

The billionaire smiled, kissed his young lover, once more, and then watched the snow falling outside the window.


	23. 23

It was the next day before Peter ventured out into the compound, again, despite the assurances of Tony (and Nick). He might have been willing to leave Tony’s quarters sooner, but Tony was happy to have Peter back in his arms, and had shown him – several times – rather than try to talk him into putting himself out of his comfort zone.

Now, though, he was aware that they were going to have to come up for air, eventually, and had suggested they go get something to eat, rather than Tony leaving to go fetch yet another meal for them. Peter had reluctantly agreed. Dressed once more in SHIELD swag and with Tony looming close at hand at all times, Peter and the billionaire went to the lounge for an early lunch.

The timing was right for the room to be nearly empty, and they found that only a few people were there when they arrived. One of them was Natasha, though, and she was sitting at a table in the far corner, near the window. There was a tablet on the table and the remains of her own lunch close at hand, but at the moment, the assassin was looking out the window and seemingly hadn’t even noticed their arrival.

“Want to join her?” Tony asked, softly, as they hesitated at the entrance. “She doesn’t seem to be working.”

Peter _didn’t_ want to, but he knew that Tony wanted him to say yes, and the man had been very patient with him and he didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Okay.”

Bolstered by a hand that was lightly pressed against the small of his back, Peter and Tony walked over to the table in the corner, and Natasha glanced over them as they approached. She smiled, but gestured toward the window.

“Can you believe this snow?” she asked, rhetorically. “It keeps up and I’m going to have to find reindeer and a sleigh.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Not if it doesn’t stop snowing.” Romanoff turned her gaze to Peter, who was hanging back, just a little – although it was mostly habit, now, and not fear. He looked uncertain, but not really afraid. “How do you feel, Peter?”

He froze, but only for a moment.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Can we join you?” Tony asked, winking at her, cheerfully.

“Of course.”

She moved her tablet a little and Tony and Peter seated themselves across from her.

“Are you hungry?” she asked Peter.

“Yes.”

“What do you like?”

He recognized that she was probably trying to get to know him a little – and was starting with something a little less disconcerting than _how do you manage to climb up walls?._

“Anything that isn’t weird.”

Which made them both look at him.

“Define _weird_,” Tony said.

Peter shrugged.

“Raw if it should be cooked. Three or more colors in one dish. Two or more kinds of food touching each other – unless it’s designed to do it, like soup or a burger.”

“_That’s_ weird,” Tony told him, even as Romanoff chuckled. “Food is _supposed_ to be interesting.”

The server came up, then, and as they had before the two newcomers were simply offered a choice; burgers with fries, or chef salads. Both of them ordered burgers, with a cola for Peter and coffee for Tony.

“What are you working on?” Tony asked Natasha as he rested his hand on the back of Peter’s chair.

“Some training schedules for Steve’s newest SHIELD recruits. Hand to hand, mostly – Steve takes care of the firearms side of things.”

Tony knew that, of course, but she was making the clarification for Peter’s benefit.

“Anything interesting happening?”

“No. This snowstorm is far reaching. It’s keeping everyone along the coast indoors – either to avoid being dumped on, or _rained_ on – depending on where they are.” She looked at Peter. “Steve pointed out that your things are all still in Coopersville.”

He blushed, unaccountably.

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, I don’t think anyone is going to steal my stuff, but they might be worried about me.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “We told the driver that hit you who we were and that we were taking you for treatment, but he probably sensationalized things a bit, so who knows what the people there are thinking.”

“Anyone we can call?” Tony asked Peter.

“My boss, maybe? To let him know I’m all right? He’d tell everyone else.”

“His name?”

“Rick Richards.”

“I’ll have FRIDAY look him up for us after we eat and you can call him, and let him know you’re alive and kicking.”

Their drinks came, then.

“What do you do for fun?”

Natasha wasn't finished trying to draw Peter out of his self-imposed shell. She was interrogator enough that Tony was forced to hide a smile, since Peter really didn’t have a chance once she had her mind set on what she was trying to learn.

He fidgeted, looking down at his cola.

“I read. Watch movies. Nothing too exciting.”

She nodded.

“This is good weather for it.”

The conversation went on as they sat first waiting for their meal and then eating it. Tony was quiet, speaking only when Natasha or Peter would say something to directly to him, He was more interested in letting Natasha interact with the boy, and – as always – was impressed at just how good she was.

By the time they were finished eating, she’d even managed to get a smile or two out of Peter, and even a chuckle.

“What are you doing the rest of the day?”

This time the question was directed at Tony, instead.

He shrugged.

“I thought we’d go outside and maybe take a walk. Get some fresh air.”

“Good idea.” She looked at the boy, who didn’t seem quite so nervous and edgy, now. “The compound doesn’t have perimeter fencing to keep people out.” Unsaid was the fact that they didn’t have fencing that would keep people _in_, either. “We have a few paths in the woods, but you guys won’t be able to find them in the snow.”

“We’ll walk along the water,” Tony told her. “It’ll be peaceful.”

“Meet for dinner?” she suggested.

Tony looked at Peter, leaving the decision up to him. Of course, Peter was a young man, and despite being utterly interested in Tony, Romanoff was a sexy woman, and extremely adept at using that to make men relaxed around her (or incredibly nervous, depending on which reaction she was looking for at the time). Peter wasn't immune to that. He nodded, somewhat shyly.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Pleased, Tony stood up and winked at Romanoff.

“Thanks for the company.”

She smiled.

“My pleasure.”

Peter got up, as well, and said his own goodbyes, and then they went to collect heavy jackets so they could go out in the snow.

><><><><> 

“That wasn't so bad, was it?”

Peter shook his head, even though Tony couldn’t see it with the hood up on the field jacket that the boy was wearing.

“No. She’s pretty nice, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

When she _wanted_ to be. He didn’t add that, though.

They were walking down to the water, which wasn't too far from the main building. The snow wasn't too deep near the buildings, but as they retreated from the protection of the structure, the snow became almost a foot or so, with drifts even deeper. Luckily, it wasn't blowing or anything, and the air was eerily quiet like it always was in the middle of a snowfall.

“I do want to go to school, Tony,” Peter told him, putting his hood down, and slowing his pace as they reached the waterfront. “In the _city_.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do.”

“Is it that easy?” Peter asked. “I mean, I have to _apply_, right? And hope they let me transfer in in the middle of a term?”

Tony shrugged – a motion that was also lost in the heavy coat he was wearing.

“You’ll need to take placement tests, and apply. I have a lot of pull, though – and friends who do if my own isn’t enough. It would be better for you, I imagine, if we wait until the start of the new term to get you going, anyway, if you think about it. That would give you almost a month or so to get yourself settled.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we need to get your stuff from up north, still, get you enrolled into classes, familiarize yourself with the campus – whichever one you decide to go to – and a place to stay, of course.” He hesitated, and put his hood down so he could look at Peter, unimpeded. “I have room at my place in the city… if you’re interested in having a roommate?”

Peter’s eyes grew hopeful.

“You want me to live with you?”

“More than you even know.”

“But not as just a _roommate_?” Peter added.

“Unless that’s what you wanted. I would definitely enjoy a continuation of what we had originally – and more of what we’re doing, _now_.”

Peter smiled.

“So would I.”

“But…” Tony said, taking his hand. “The Avengers know where I live. They’re going to come over, every now and then.”

“Oh.” Peter took his hand, and they kept walking, now following the river. “That wouldn’t be so bad…”

Tony smiled, reaching over and putting Peter’s hood back up.

It was a start. Clearly, Peter _was_ done hiding, too.


	24. Epilogue

“Tony, I’m home…”

Peter never got tired of saying that, and was smiling even as he closed the door behind him. He dropped his backpack on the coffee table, listening, and was looking at the bedroom door when it opened. Tony emerged only a moment later, wearing loose pants and a t-shirt. He’d been home almost a half an hour, and was already in relaxed clothing.

“Hey, honey,” he said by way of greeting as Peter automatically stepped into his arms, wanting to be held. “How was class?”

“Fine. I like the new professor.”

“Yeah? Good.” Tony felt a thrill go through him as he tucked Peter’s head under his chin, loving how well they fit, together. Peter had been living with him, full time at the apartment, now, for almost two months, and it was still very new for both of them. “Any homework?”

“I did it in class.”

><><><>

They’d stayed at the compound through the snowstorm. It had given Peter a chance to ease into getting to know some of the avengers as something other than the monsters from his nightmares, and them a chance to get used to him.

First Natasha, and then Steve. Eventually Sam, Rhodey and a few of the others. By the time it had finished snowing, and the accumulation was beginning to melt, Peter was comfortable enough with Steve and Natasha that he hadn’t even run for the hills when Steve had offered to fly them up to Coopersville to collect his things and collect his final paycheck from the mill – as well as pay up on whatever rent was owed.

Two days after they returned, surprising no one that knew them, Peter moved in with Tony full time. That was an adjustment for both of them. Tony wasn't used to anyone living in with him – or to have someone to be accountable to when it came to coming home. The first day Peter had woken in Tony’s bed, the billionaire had told him that he was going to the tower and would be home around five. Still feeling the euphoria from their loving the night before, Peter had nodded and gone back to sleep.

The rest of his day had been spent looking around the high-end apartment building and the amenities the place provided. He’d found a bank a few blocks down and had opened an account there, deciding that it would be conveniently located, and had pulled money from the trust that he had barely touched in the last two years, but had been gaining interest at a comforting rate. Then he’d had lunch at the deli in the lower level of the apartment building before returning to the apartment, still arranging his clothes into the portion of the closet that Tony allotted to him, cheerfully.

By four-thirty, he was looking forward to Tony’s return to the apartment. He’d done the whole living alone and having no one to come home to him – or for him to come home to – and he was anxious to give the new reality a try.

By five, he was feeling excited, and wondering if he should surprise Tony with dinner, or if the older man would prefer to eat out. Peter was able to function in the kitchen, but was self-aware enough that he knew his cooking wasn't anything special.

At five-thirty, Peter hesitantly spoke to the apartment’s AI, which Tony had introduced him to the day before.

“FRIDAY? Is Tony on his way?”

_“He’s still in his workroom at the tower,”_ came the immediate reply.

“Oh.” Peter hesitated. “Is he almost finished?”

_“Unknown.”_

The AI wasn't designed to detect and soothe hurt feelings or insecurities, so it didn’t expound – and didn’t tell Tony in his workroom that Peter was asking about him. When the billionaire had come home well after midnight, Peter had gone to bed.

In the guest room.

“What are you doing in here, honey?” Tony had asked, waking him up, gently – once he’d found him.

“Sleeping where you put me,” was the reply.

Tony had frowned, confused.

“In the guest room?”

“If you’re going to treat me like a guest, then _this_ is where I belong.”

“What?”

“You told me you were going to be home at five.”

Oh.

“I got distracted. I’m sorry.”

Peter was groggy, but he had spent his night waiting for Tony and realizing that something was going to have to give – because he wasn't going to be disappointed _every_ night, and he wasn't going to be second best to whatever project Tony was working on. He _liked_ being the center of Tony’s attention and wasn't going to allow it to just be whenever Tony wanted.

It was going to have to be all or nothing.

Preferably before Peter was too hooked on the man to be able to stand up for himself.

“I can be alone anywhere, Tony,” he’d told him, his eyes bright with the hurt the older man had dealt him by forgetting about him – or just not caring enough to want to be with him, which was even worse, really. “You could have just helped me find my own place and not allowed me to my hopes up.”

“Honey, it’s not like that. I was _working_. It’s not like I was off carousing, or something.”

Peter had sniffed, sadly, and the sound had broken Tony’s heart. Add in the silent tear that chose that moment to roll down Peter’s cheek, and the older man was done in. He was in the wrong, and it was time to be an adult and simply admit it, rather than try to talk himself out of being the at fault party. Peter had turned away, unwilling to use a guilt trip on Tony to get his way. He just had wanted to point out – as bluntly as possible – how he felt about being less important than whatever it was that had kept Tony so enthralled at the tower.

“Peter…” the billionaire had climbed onto the bed and gathered him into his arms, holding him, close and caressing his cheek. “I’m sorry. I _am_. It won’t happen, again.”

“You should have called…” Peter whispered, pressing his face into Tony’s chest. “If it was important-“

“Nothing’s more important than you.” Tony assured him. “Nothing.”

Peter had clung to him until they both fell asleep, right there in the guest room, and Tony had learned an important lesson; Peter really was important to him, and he was a person with a solid hold over him. Hurting Peter was far, far, worse than hurting himself, or doing something thoughtless.

The next morning, he’d made a point to inform FRIDAY that she was to remind Tony that Peter was waiting at home for him – just in case he got caught up in a project – and reminded Peter that he had instant access to Tony through FRIDAY at all times, and had every right to call him whenever he wanted.

Peter had wiped away another tear, this one not as mournful, and nodded.

After that, Tony was home when he’d say he was going to be. Peter had spent the time between moving in and the day his classes began learning how to live with an erratic and brilliant billionaire who had as many issues as the boy, himself, and Tony had learned how to think of someone other than himself, for a change.

They were both fairly happy by the time Peter started classes, and now – sometimes – it was Peter who wasn't home when he thought he would be. He always called, though, to let Tony know if something was happening that was holding him up. He hadn’t forgot the lesson, either – even though it hadn’t been aimed at him.

><><><>< 

Tony shook his head, pretending to be offended.

“How am I supposed to prove to you just how supportive I am if you finish your homework before I have a chance to help you with it?” he asked, leaning in for a soft kiss.

Peter chuckled.

“Wait until I get to the hard stuff,” he assured him. “Then I’ll need all the help you can give me.”

Tony didn’t look convinced, but he nodded, kissed him again and pulled him up close for a moment.

“The others are coming by tonight, you didn’t forget, right?”

It was a measure of growth that Peter barely even tensed – and he didn’t tremble.

“No. I remembered.”

They were coming for dinner. Because Tony was part of their team and teams spent time together. And they wanted _Peter_ to eventually be part of that team, too, and that meant spending time with him, as well.

“You’re okay?”

Peter smiled, resting his cheek on Tony’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Tony. I’m good.”

He _was_, too.

Tony brushed his hair from his forehead, lovingly, proud of him and loving him all over again.

“You’re better than good, Peter Parker,” he murmured. “You’re _amazing_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The END!  
Thanks for reading, all. Hope you enjoyed it. (I enjoyed writing it)  
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